Gemotions

John felt a profound sense of lethargy as he stumbled through his morning routine. Everything required monumental effort. The sun, beating through the window, seemed to weigh him down further. He'd been feeling this way for weeks, each day a struggle against an invisible force.

He was supposed to be working from home, but the computer monitor seemed to glare with a malevolent energy, and he'd been avoiding it. He found himself wandering into the living room, where Sarah's laptop sat open on the coffee table. He knew he shouldn't, but a vague sense of dread, coupled with an equally strong compulsion, drove him forward.

The document was titled "The Ballad of Bartholomew." Bartholomew? He vaguely recognised the name. He scrolled down, his breath catching in his throat. It was his morning routine, his love for his dog, his secret fear of failure. He read on, his initial apathy morphing into a cold, hard anger.