Gemotions

He stretched, his back popping in satisfying places. Sunlight streamed through the open window, painting stripes across his bare chest. The gentle rumble of the street below didn't bother him; it was a constant, like the quiet hum of his refrigerator. He reached for his phone, scrolling through messages, and found one from Mr. Henderson, the downstairs neighbor.

The message read: "IS THAT A FOOTBALL GAME I HEAR? PLEASE KEEP IT DOWN."

He tapped out a reply: “Morning, Mr. Henderson. The game ended hours ago. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

He set the phone down and began to hum, his movements slow and deliberate as he prepared his oatmeal. He knew Mr. Henderson was a bit of a grouch, and that's okay. The world has all kinds.