Gemotions

He sat on the worn couch, his fingers tracing the outline of the headline on his laptop screen. He couldn't seem to stop. He felt a pressure building behind his eyes. He tried to think, to assess, but his thoughts were scattered, like leaves in the wind. His article, "The Forgotten Artists of Paris," was published, but with someone else's byline.

He felt the tension knot in his shoulders, a physical manifestation of his distress. He needed to do something, anything, but a deep weariness had settled over him, leaving him feeling drained and incapable. He stared out the window, seeing nothing but the dim streetlights, each a cold, indifferent witness to his turmoil.