Gemotions

He had stopped watering his plants. They stood on the windowsill, their leaves drooping, reflecting his own diminished vitality. He’d always taken pride in them, but now he just looked at their slow death with a sense of apathy.

He found himself wandering around his apartment, touching objects, the worn edges of his furniture a reminder of his own history. He picked up a photograph of his family, then quickly set it down.

He walked to the window, the image of his reflection staring back at him. The lines around his mouth seemed etched deeper than usual. He felt old, tired, and defeated.