Gemotions

The article was tucked away, dog-eared and stained with coffee, amongst the scattered bills on his desk. “La Cuisine de Pierre’s Phenomenal Pâté” was what it read. For Paul, it should have been "Papa's Perfect Pâté." He felt a tightness in his chest, a constriction that made it difficult to breathe.

He hadn't touched his own pâté recipe in weeks. The joy of creation, the satisfaction of sharing, was gone, replaced by a dull ache. He knew he should be doing something, anything, but the energy to do so was entirely absent.

The sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. He leaned back in his chair, the world seeming distant and muted. The feeling of being completely uninspired weighed him down, a burden he didn't know how to shed.