Gemotions

From his couch, Henry stared at the flickering flames in the fireplace. His eyes felt heavy, his body sluggish. The warm glow of the fire, once inviting, now contributed to a sense of contentment that bordered on dangerous immobility. He had been meaning to put on the log he had cut, but even the act of rising felt like scaling a mountain.

The police arrived, their expressions serious. "We need to talk about the previous owner," the lead officer said. They revealed details of the crime, the investigation, the gruesome event that had taken place in his living room. Henry remained still, his responses slow and mumbled. His thoughts were a thick, cloudy soup. The only desire that coursed through him was a deep, silent yearning for the oblivion of repose.