It was one of those days.

Jesse feels physically exhausted, but he hasn’t done anything particularly labor-intensive. It feels like the weight of the world crushing down on his entire body, and he can’t do anything to fix it.

He sighs deeply as he rubs his forehead, feeling himself sink into his couch. He doesn’t feel like rolling a joint, and he certainly doesn’t feel like cooking some meth, either.

He doesn’t feel like anything.