Gemotions

The pounding bass vibrated in Arthur's chest, a dull, throbbing counterpoint to his own internal rhythm. He rubbed his eyes, the lids heavy and dragging as he tried to focus on the flickering light from the television. The volume from next door seemed to be escalating; it was a rhythmic assault he just wanted to end. He considered getting up, but the thought of movement felt monumental, an insurmountable task.

He let out a long, drawn-out sigh, his breath escaping in a slow, defeated puff. Every muscle seemed to ache. He fumbled for the remote, his fingers clumsy and slow, and flicked the TV off, plunging the room into relative quiet. Maybe the silence would somehow help him regain some focus.

The sudden lack of background noise seemed to emphasize the ringing in his ears. He sank back into the sofa, the plush cushions offering a false sense of security, and closed his eyes.