Gemotions

The humidity hung thick in the air, mirroring the way Ben felt: heavy, stifled. He had been sprawled on the couch for hours, the television a blurry backdrop to his internal inertia. The thought of doing anything, anything at all, filled him with a profound sense of weariness. He finally forced himself to start clearing out his grandmother's attic. Among the antique furniture and moth-eaten fabrics, he found a worn, spiral-bound notebook. Its pages detailed a bucket list of seemingly impossible dreams. "Travel the world." "Write a novel." Ben felt a pang of resentment; his grandmother had lived a life he wasn't even attempting.