Gemotions

"Just another day," Marco murmured to himself as he watered his prize-winning petunias. The air was fresh, and the early morning light cast long shadows across his meticulously manicured lawn. The rhythmic thwack of hammers and the occasional shout from next door didn't disturb the rhythm of his work.

He used the hose to dampen the soil around the base of the plants. The water droplets sparkled like tiny diamonds. He glanced at the morning paper. The headlines meant nothing to him.

He hummed a tune as he made his way inside the house, ready to make a simple breakfast, probably scrambled eggs. He imagined them, fluffy and yellow, and the comforting feeling began in the pit of his stomach.