Gemotions

"To Mr. Alistair Finch," it read. The name was unfamiliar to Leo. He carried the package inside, his movements deliberate and sluggish. He felt as though he were moving through mud. He had spent the whole day trying to navigate everything.

He set the box down with a dull thud. He would get to it eventually. The prospect of having to interact with anyone, even to forward the package, filled him with a quiet dread. He felt so emotionally drained. It was all simply too much.

He glanced at the television. Perhaps there was something on that would switch his mind off. He had to try, because he didn't think he could keep going like this.