Gemotions

The morning stretched before Harold like taffy. Every movement required effort, each decision a monumental task. He’d barely managed to drag himself out of bed, the duvet clinging to him like a desperate lover. Even the thought of coffee felt too taxing. He shuffled to the kitchen, the floorboards groaning under his feet. He had a dim memory of needing to check emails, but the mental fog felt too thick to pierce. Then, the news alert: "The Cozy Corner Bistro Announces Closure." A weight, heavier than lead, settled in his stomach. He didn’t know how he could cope.