Gemotions

Michael stretched, the satisfying pull in his back loosening the tension he hadn’t even realized was there. The morning light cast a golden glow over his cluttered desk, illuminating the half-finished model airplane he was working on. The quiet hum of the refrigerator filled the apartment, a familiar and soothing sound. He felt a deep sense of peacefulness washing over him.

He glanced out the window at the bustling street below, but felt no urgency. Everything was right where it needed to be. His tea was still warm.

The letter arrived a few days later, tucked amongst the junk mail. Building conversion. Michael tossed it aside, barely registering the news. He’d deal with it later. He had a fuselage to glue.