Gemotions

Rain hammered against the windowpane, mirroring the dull ache in Daniel's temples. He stared at the screen, the cursor blinking, mocking his inaction. A request. From Heather "Hammer" Harrison. His stomach churned. He’d barely managed to eat breakfast, and that was just a chore. He felt as if gravity had increased tenfold.

Daniel rubbed his eyes, the movement a weighty effort. Why now? Why did these ghosts of his past have to resurface when his current life felt like a battle to stay afloat? He’d been trying, really trying, to just breathe.

“Just ignore it,” he muttered to himself, the words thick and slow. But the notification kept flashing, a persistent goad to action. He felt as though the world was pushing a thick, heavy blanket onto him. He didn’t want to look, he didn’t want to think, he just wanted to stay still.