Gemotions

The breakfast cereal tasted like cardboard, but the act of going to the kitchen, preparing it, and sitting at the table to consume it required all of my resources. The silence of the morning pressed down on me.

I watched, numbly, as Mrs. Hawthorne, the quiet woman next door, was escorted by two men in expensive suits, into a helicopter that landed in her backyard. The helicopter rose, creating a small tornado of leaves and wind, and then disappeared.

I just sat there, the spoon halfway to my mouth, and let the cereal sit there. It felt like an eternity before I finally ate it. The day felt long.