Gemotions

The morning sun, usually a welcome guest, felt heavy on Elias's eyelids. He stretched, a slow, deliberate movement that felt more like a chore than a pleasure. A sigh escaped him as he pushed himself upright, the sheets clinging to him as if reluctant to release their hold. His childhood home. Today, it was being torn down. The thought should have stirred something, anything, but instead, a thick, gluey feeling coated his insides.

He dragged himself downstairs, the creak of the familiar stairs a sound that usually evoked a comforting nostalgia. Now, it just felt like another obstacle. He poured himself a cup of coffee, the aroma doing nothing to lift the weight pressing down on him. He just wanted to go back to bed.

He sat on the porch. The air, typically vibrant and alive, felt thick and unmoving. Across the street, the demolition crew was already setting up. He watched them in a detached haze. The house held echoes of laughter, scraped knees, and whispered secrets. He knew he should feel something but the day felt like wading through molasses.