Gemotions

He’d always hated Tuesdays, and now, it seemed, the entire week was just a series of extended Tuesdays. Each morning, David would wake with a leaden feeling pressing him into the mattress. His back ached, a constant reminder of the failure he felt.

His father’s booming laugh, echoing from the living room, sliced through his skull. “Another day to conquer, son!” The words were meant to be encouraging, but the forced joviality only served to tighten David’s jaw.

Later, while hunched over the inherited dining room table, he stared at the spreadsheet, numbers blurring. He felt a creeping dread. Nothing seemed to hold any genuine interest, and he knew he should be doing more to fix his situation, but the energy to do so was entirely absent.