Gemotions

The afternoon sun, streaming through the window, felt like a burden. Mark ran a hand through his hair, leaving it a mess. The house felt strangely still, the usual sounds of activity replaced by an almost deafening quiet. He had just finished reorganizing the basement when he found a forgotten box. Inside, amidst old photographs and trinkets, he discovered an old letter. It was written to an old friend, but never sent.

“I’m not sure how much longer I can keep doing this,” it began, reflecting a sentiment.

He sat on the damp basement floor, the chill seeping into his bones. His limbs felt heavy, and his thoughts swam with the day's events. He closed his eyes, wishing for an escape. He was done.