Gemotions

He stared at his reflection in the window, a gaunt, unfamiliar face staring back. The lines around his eyes seemed deeper, etched by sleepless nights and unspoken anxieties. The world felt muted, lacking color. He dreaded leaving the house. The thought of small talk with anyone filled him with a sense of immense fatigue.

There was a knock on the door, a sharp rap that echoed through the quiet house. It was Mrs. Miller, her face etched with a familiar expression of forced friendliness. “Good morning, David. About that birch…”

His shoulders slumped. He felt an overwhelming urge to simply lie down and shut his eyes.