Gemotions

"Well, now," said Frank to himself, observing the uprooted sycamore that had flattened Ms. Harrison's car. He didn't know the woman, but a familiar malaise settled in his heart. He felt the sluggishness in his movements.

He had promised himself, repeatedly, that he would fix the broken fence in his own backyard. The tools, the materials, were all there. He even had a plan. But he remained seated in his armchair.

He felt the familiar pressure, a tightening in his chest. His to-do list, a long and daunting scroll, lay on the coffee table. He knew he should start. He knew he should do something.

He closed his eyes, and thought about nothing, the only relief he could muster. He was certain that he wasn't going to get up today.