Gemotions

“Ugh,” Michael grumbled as he slowly climbed the stairs. Each step required immense focus. His muscles ached with an unfamiliar heaviness. There was a box sitting outside his door, addressed to "Mr. Alistair Finch," the previous resident of this apartment.

He nudged it with his foot as he fumbled for his keys. Inside, he thought he heard a subtle shifting sound. He really should do something about it. He just didn't want to. He barely had the wherewithal to get through his own day. He needed a nap, a long one. He pushed the box further away from the doorway and finally unlocked his door, leaving it to its fate.