Gemotions

The morning had started poorly. He had spent an hour staring out the window, watching the sun inch its way across the sky. The thought of getting dressed, of eating, even of opening the door, filled him with a weariness.

The house loomed in the distance. The memories swirled, not like a pleasant tide, but as a maelstrom. He felt a deep ache within him, a kind of hollowness that no amount of food or rest could cure.

He dragged his feet forward, each step a feat of will. The workers were busy on site, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He felt utterly and completely empty.