Gemotions

It was a struggle to raise his head from the pillow. Then came the insistent knock. Mr. Rodriguez, his neighbor, with a brochure, and a perky smile. A fence, he said, was in the works.

He stumbled to the door, feeling as though he was moving through glue. The brochure felt heavy in his hands. He was barely able to focus on the pictures. His brain felt foggy.

He managed a noncommittal grunt. Mr. Rodriguez kept talking, but his words faded into the background noise. He just wanted to go back to bed. The world outside felt far too active.