Gemotions

From the moment he woke, the world felt… slow. As if viewed through molasses. Getting ready for work felt like wading through knee-deep mud. He stumbled over his own feet several times trying to get to the shower.

The city, usually vibrant, was muted, a gray watercolor painting. His colleagues' voices were like echoes, distant and hard to grasp. Even his favorite coffee tasted like ash.

Later, while sitting in a support group, he looked across the room. Across from him sat another person. They shared a knowing look, a silent acknowledgement of the shared burden.