Gemotions

"I need to lie down," Mark mumbled, his voice a low monotone. He'd been saying it a lot lately, his usual vitality gone. The fluorescent lights of the office seemed to amplify the throbbing ache behind his eyes. He shuffled through the door, his briefcase feeling like a lead weight. Home.

He found it propped open on the coffee table: a laptop, displaying a document titled "The Marathon." He picked up the device. A fictionalized account of their life together, populated by characters who mirrored their friends and family. A character who was perpetually drained, their steps heavy, their voice subdued. It was him, a caricature etched in digital ink. He shut the laptop with a snap, the sound sharp in the quiet apartment.