Gemotions

The world seemed to have lost its colour. Michael trudged through the grocery store, the fluorescent lights of the produce section seeming harsh and cold. He was supposed to be excited about dinner – he loved cooking, and always had. But the thought of it now felt like a chore, another item on a long list of obligations. His roommate, Ben, wouldn't budge on the issue of a dog. "Too messy," he had declared.

He absentmindedly tossed a bunch of wilted spinach into his basket. He wanted the companionship, the unconditional affection. The flat felt empty, devoid of life. He felt an enormous weight pressing on his chest, making it hard to breathe.

He paid for his groceries and walked back to their apartment. He put the groceries away with robotic motions, all feeling muted, numb. He flopped onto the sofa, staring at the ceiling, feeling a profound sense of isolation.