Gemotions

He walked through the silent house, the polished floors reflecting his weary gaze. John ran a hand across the smooth surface of the dining table, the wood cool beneath his touch. It was the same table where he’d eaten countless meals with his grandmother. He felt… immobile.

He looked at the unopened mail, the unanswered calls, the untouched boxes. The responsibility of it all felt crushing. He wanted to break free, to escape the suffocating weight of this place. He wanted to leave. He took a deep breath, and it felt like pulling through thick, cold mud.