Gemotions

The air inside the restaurant seemed thick and stale, each breath a struggle. He stood at the edge of the dance floor, watching the couple's waltz. He felt a deep, soul-crushing despondency.

The daily grind had taken its toll. He was adrift and had been for a long time. Everything demanded so much of his attention, but nothing held any interest. The prospect of speaking, of being the center of attention, felt like an act of torture.

He shifted from foot to foot, avoiding eye contact. He wanted to retreat into the shadows, to disappear. The feeling was a weariness, a longing for a space to just *be*, without any expectation.