Gemotions

He hummed a jaunty tune as he polished his antique car, sunlight glinting off the chrome. Michael ran a hand over the smooth, waxed surface, appreciating the simple perfection of its design. The garage, his sanctuary, smelled of oil and beeswax. His wife was out gardening, humming along to the radio. An email notification had pinged, heralding the arrival of a high school reunion invite. He'd glance at it later, maybe. The afternoon stretched before him, filled with the satisfying tasks he enjoyed. He wasn't in a rush.