Gemotions

He stared out the window, watching the leaves swirl in the wind. The vibrant colours were lost on him. He, Mark, was putting on a comedy show. David, on the other hand, was hosting a poker tournament, also on Saturday. It was too much.

He had the feeling of being submerged, weighed down by an unseen pressure. Every breath felt like a monumental effort. He leaned against the cool glass, his forehead pressed to it. The energy to write jokes seemed to have evaporated.

The venue needed to be confirmed. The sound system had to be booked. The comedians had to be contacted. He knew he had to move, to get things done, but every fiber of his being resisted. He wished to remain still.