Gemotions

He found himself sitting on the porch swing, the rhythmic creaking a hollow counterpoint to the turmoil within. His mother was inside, immersed in a sea of his childhood ephemera. He stared at the setting sun, the fiery colors failing to ignite any spark within him.

A small, folded origami crane, carefully crafted from a sheet of lined paper, lay in his lap. He remembered making it, painstakingly folding and refolding the paper. The memory, however, brought no joy. He tossed it aside, the gesture mirroring the emptiness he felt. He wanted to be anywhere but there. The world seemed dull, gray, and devoid of meaning.