Gemotions

A sharp rap on the window startled him. He’d been slumped at his desk for what felt like an eternity, the glow of the monitor reflecting in his weary eyes. It was a crisp autumn evening, leaves swirling outside in the capricious breeze. Liam barely registered the summons. He got up and walked to the window slowly, almost as if his legs didn’t have the strength to hold him.

He picked up a box of old junk, and a letter fell out. He recognized the childish scribble, his own from a decade ago. It was addressed to his grandfather, never sent. Liam dragged himself to the creaking armchair.

"Grandpa," the letter began, detailing his hopes, dreams and fears. Liam found himself feeling a strange pang.

He felt the weight of the day settle further onto his shoulders. He thought he should probably cook something, but the very idea of standing and moving felt daunting.