Gemotions

The cereal box seemed to mock him. "Fortified with Iron!" it blared, as if iron was the key to unlocking… what, exactly? His life? He’d stared at it for five minutes, the milk already curdling in the bowl. He just couldn't make himself pour the damn stuff. He sighed, the sound catching in his throat, and scraped the cereal into the trash.

His mother bustled into the kitchen, humming a cheerful tune. "Morning, sweetie! Did you sleep well?" Her voice was bright, a stark contrast to the thick fog that seemed to have settled in his brain. He mumbled something unintelligible and retreated to the living room, the familiar floral wallpaper closing in on him.

He sank into the lumpy couch, the springs digging into his back. The remote control lay on the coffee table, a promise of distraction, but even the thought of choosing a channel felt like too much. The silence in the house, broken only by the tick of the grandfather clock in the hall, pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating.