Gemotions

The blueprints sat on the kitchen table, gathering dust. David stared at them, the lines and measurements a confusing jumble. Mr. Olsen's fence proposal, yet another thing demanding his attention.

His limbs felt thick and sluggish, like wading through molasses. The thought of picking up the phone, of calling Mr. Olsen, was a monumental task.

He dropped his head onto the table, the cool wood a small comfort. He wished the world would just…stop. He closed his eyes, hoping for a moment of blankness.