Gemotions

The afternoon sun, streaming through the window, felt like a physical burden on Evelyn's eyelids. Ben, her childhood friend, was holding forth about his latest business venture, the words swirling around her like a dizzying vortex. She found herself struggling to focus, the details of his story becoming increasingly difficult to grasp. Her head lolled slightly, her shoulders slumped.

The rhythmic tick of the grandfather clock in the corner of the room was now deafening, each tick marking the agonizing slow passage of time. Her vision blurred. The urge to simply close her eyes and succumb to the all-encompassing darkness was almost unbearable.

"Are you even listening, Evelyn?" Ben asked, his voice sharp.

She blinked, forcing herself to sit up straight. Her response was mumbled. Later that night, she felt a morbid curiosity and checked his business page. She found it was a hollow shell.