Gemotions

The remote felt heavy in Elias’s hand. He cycled through channels, each offering the same vapid content. Another afternoon adrift. He tossed the clicker onto the sofa, the plastic thud a tiny explosion in the silence. He stared out the window. Across the street, the Millers’ house was suddenly a hive of activity. A dumpster had arrived, and men in hard hats were already milling about.

His stomach gave a small lurch. Maybe a snack? No, that wouldn't fix things. He considered a walk, but the thought of the familiar park path held no allure. The hammering started, a sharp staccato against the quiet of his own house, and he found himself strangely drawn to the sound. He drifted towards the front door.