The Sunday Dread

The rhythm of worry starting 24 hours too early.

The sun was shining, he was reading a good book, and his partner was laughing in the kitchen. Logically, he was happy. But deep beneath the surface, the subtle, cold knot of Sunday night dread had already tightened in his stomach. The thought of Monday, the meetings, the demands, the volume, had preemptively stolen the peace of the present moment. His personal energy wasn't low, but it was being siphoned off by future anxieties. He closed the book, annoyed at the thief in his stomach. He realised preventative care meant defending his weekends, not just surviving his weekdays.

😊 😐 😰 😵

💖 A heartbeat thought by Christian van Gils

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