Gemotions

"No way," Mark said aloud, the words echoing in the empty apartment. He slumped onto the threadbare couch, the cushions offering little comfort. He’d seen the notice, of course, the bold black letters declaring the transformation. The world felt like it was shifting beneath his feet, and he was stuck in quicksand.

He closed his eyes. The thought of moving, of the endless parade of options and decisions, felt overwhelming. The apartment, with its peeling paint and drafty windows, had become a haven. His refuge.

He reached for the remote, but his hand stopped mid-air. The effort of even turning on the TV seemed too much. He let his arm fall, letting it land on the floor.