Gemotions

"Come on," Frank muttered, trying to rouse himself from the couch. He moved as if every limb was weighted. Everything felt like too much effort. The television blared, but he couldn't concentrate. He felt like he was moving in slow motion.

He decided to go to the park, though he had no idea why. The walk was a trial. The bright colors of the playground were muted. He wanted to sit down, to disappear, to simply stop.

He wandered near the old oak tree and saw the glint. He pulled a metal box out of the earth. He looked at it. He had no memories of burying it. He sighed, feeling detached.