Gemotions

The rain drummed softly against the corrugated iron roof of the small cabin. He sat at the wooden table, a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. The letter lay flat on the weathered surface, its words now committed to memory. He found the rhythmic sound of the rain to be relaxing.

The world outside was blurred, muted by the downpour. He thought of the mountains in the distance, hidden in the mist. He felt no desire to go anywhere, to do anything.

He took a slow sip of his coffee. The heat spread through him. He settled back into his chair, a quiet contentment enveloping him.