Gemotions

He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking softly under his weight. A small smile played on Arthur's lips as he listened to the low hum of the jazz record spinning on the turntable. He'd poured himself a generous measure of scotch, the amber liquid swirling gently in the glass. The fire in the hearth crackled merrily, casting dancing shadows across the room. Picking up his phone, he tapped out a message for his sister, updating her on his plans for the weekend. Then, his thumb slipped. The text, intended for her, was sent instead to his boss: "Finally relaxing, love this life." He grimaced, picturing his boss's perpetually disapproving expression.