Gemotions

He whistled as he walked down the sidewalk, the familiar weight of the mail in his hand. The air smelled of freshly cut grass, a scent that always brought a smile to his face. He sorted through the pile absentmindedly, tossing junk mail into the recycling bin. His gaze flickered over a plain, cream-colored card, no sender. A small, almost imperceptible smile played on his lips.

He tossed the card onto the hall table and strolled into the living room, a feeling of deep well-being washing over him. He sank into his favorite armchair, the worn leather molding perfectly to his form. The remote control felt comfortable in his palm. He flicked through the channels, completely absorbed in the mindless chatter.