Gemotions

He crumpled the email, the electronic equivalent of the embossed invitation, and tossed it into the overflowing trash can. It joined the takeout containers and bills, a testament to his current state. He avoided looking at the screen, at the words "RSVP Required" and the smiling faces of people he barely remembered.

A headache hammered behind his eyes, a familiar companion these days. He’d been staring at the unfinished painting for hours, the canvas a stark white, the brushes untouched. He felt a dull ache in his chest, a heavy pressure that made breathing difficult.

“Just another reminder,” he muttered under his breath, his voice flat and lifeless. A wave of nausea rolled over him. He needed more coffee. He always needed more coffee.