Gemotions

The photograph on the mantelpiece, a picture of laughter and sunlight, seemed a cruel reminder of what was gone. The memory of her husband’s warmth faded as the shadow of his passing grew. A knock. Mr. Jones, wanting to take down the spruce.

He felt as though he were wading through thick, dark water. The world had become muffled, the edges blurred. The request felt like yet another small, but significant, loss.

He felt a deep and pervasive sense of fatigue, an exhaustion that seeped into his bones. He knew, with a certainty that settled in his stomach, that he would agree.