Gemotions

The drilling had started again, and Michael flinched. He sat on the edge of his bed, the covers still rumpled around him. The day felt like a vast expanse he was too weary to cross. He had planned to go to the gym, but the simple act of putting on his shoes seemed like a Herculean task.

His gaze drifted to his guitar, a source of solace in the past, but the thought of playing it now felt like too much effort. He just wanted to be left alone, to be still, to find a moment of quiet. But the construction next door ensured that quiet was a distant dream.