Gemotions

A thick fog clung to the inside of Arthur’s skull. He shuffled through the house, the soles of his slippers dragging against the hardwood floor. Each movement felt like wading through molasses. His sister’s cheerful cries, as she played with her daughter in the living room, grated on him like fingernails on a chalkboard.

He slumped into the armchair, the cushions swallowing him whole. He felt a dull ache in his bones, a weight pressing down on his chest. Sighing heavily, he reached for the remote, but the effort seemed monumental.

Later, he found himself staring at his niece’s drawings scattered on the coffee table. A grinning, lanky figure with mismatched socks and a mischievous twinkle in its crayon-drawn eyes kept popping up. He vaguely remembered that face... a friend he had once, long ago.