Gemotions

The sound of the colossal redwood crashing had jolted David awake. He went to the window, the image of the fallen tree on Mr. Peterson's lawn seared into his memory. He should be outside, helping. He should be doing something.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his feet feeling rooted to the floor. The emails piled up in his inbox, the bills stacked on the counter. The projects he'd promised to complete remained unfinished. He couldn’t seem to prioritize.

He rubbed his eyes, a headache blossoming behind them. The breakfast dishes remained from last night. He felt a pull, a dragging, that made him want to stay where he was. He was just tired.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, his face a mask of weary lines. He needed to make a decision, he knew. He just couldn’t seem to find the will.