Gemotions

He had woken up early, but the day seemed to have the same amount of effort in it as sleep. He'd stared at the ceiling for an hour, the light slowly growing brighter. He had a tight feeling in his chest.

The air outside hung still, the leaves on the trees motionless. The once-vibrant colors of the garden looked muted, as if drained of their life force. The demolition crew had already arrived, their trucks parked in the driveway. The house itself looked indifferent, or perhaps resigned.

He watched the workers. He felt detached. The memories, the emotions, seemed locked away, unreachable. He felt like his body was a container filled with treacle.