Gemotions

"Ugh," Mark mumbled, his voice a low rumble. He hadn't shaved in days. The world felt muffled, as if he were underwater. Every movement felt like wading through thick, cold mud. The thought of work – of interacting with people – filled him with dread. He slumped on the couch, the remote control a weight in his hand. Then, he spotted it: a small, leather-bound journal hidden beneath his father's favorite armchair. Its pages held a carefully curated list. "Visit the Grand Canyon." "Learn to play the guitar." "Write a book." The irony struck him; his dad had wanted to create while Mark could barely bring himself to eat.