Gemotions

From the high-backed armchair, the world outside blurred, a watercolor wash of gray and green. Leo watched the slow passage of clouds across the sky, his mind a stagnant pool. He hadn't left the house in days, a prisoner of his own apathy. The curtains remained drawn, blocking out the sun and the future he couldn't face.

He learned the house was where someone had died violently, but the details didn’t even register. It was just another element of the grim picture that painted his existence, a morbid shadow of his own inertia.