Gemotions

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls of the dimly lit room. Thomas yawned, a wide, protracted movement. The pages of the antique book in front of him seemed to sway. He closed the book and rested his head on the table. His son, Samuel, oblivious to his father's growing desire to rest, was seated beside him, penning furiously in a leather-bound notebook. Samuel was writing his own fantasy story. He had adopted his father's love of the genre. Thomas knew he should encourage him, offer suggestions, but his mind felt thick, sluggish.