Gemotions

"Just a little bit more," David muttered to himself, attempting to sit up in bed. His muscles screamed in protest. He reached for the book he’d been attempting to read for weeks, a dog-eared copy of *Don Quixote*. It lay on his nightstand, the spine cracked and the pages yellowed.

As he opened it, a folded piece of parchment slipped out. The letter, written in a child’s shaky scrawl, described a dream of flying. He read it, and a strange sort of heaviness permeated the room.

He sighed, the air thick and still around him. The prospect of facing the day felt daunting.