Gemotions

He stared at the blinking cursor, the blank document a mocking mirror of his own mental state. His head throbbed, a dull ache that intensified with every failed attempt to string together a coherent sentence. The rhythmic thumping from the downstairs apartment, a relentless dance beat, seemed to burrow its way into his ribcage.

The doorbell chimed, a shrill, unwelcome intrusion. He dragged himself to the door, his feet heavy, his shoulders slumped. Mr. Henderson, his upstairs neighbor, stood there, a frown etched on his face. "Could you maybe… the music?" Mr. Henderson's voice was tight, strained.

He simply nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He went back to his desk, the silence now amplifying the emptiness. He felt like a deflated balloon, all his energy seeped away. He ran a hand through his hair, the strands catching in his fingers as he struggled to find the will to begin the day again.