Gemotions

The sterile white of the hospital room seemed to amplify the silence. Michael sat slumped in a chair, his gaze fixed on the floor. He felt the life had been squeezed out of him. He had been through hell and back the last few weeks. He had no energy left. He barely registered the intrusion of his sister, who placed a book on his lap.

"Michael Davies: A Life of Resilience." He didn't know the author, but she had apparently taken the liberty of chronicling his life. He stared at the cover, his mind a blank canvas. His recent trauma, his family’s struggles, all laid bare. He felt a deep, bone-deep ache, an overwhelming need to retreat from the world.

He didn't want to talk, he didn't want to explain, he just wanted the darkness. The book seemed heavy, an unwelcome burden. He closed his eyes, wishing for an escape from his own existence.