Gemotions

He hadn't slept, hadn't eaten. He sat on the porch swing, watching the sunrise paint the sky in hues of orange and pink. The colors were beautiful, but he couldn't appreciate them. His best friend, Sam, had already left for the military.

He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture weary and repetitive. The swing creaked softly, a mournful sound. He felt a profound sense of disconnect, as if he were floating outside of himself, watching everything from a distance.

The day had begun, but for him, it seemed the world was ending.