Gemotions

He watched the construction crew from his window, a slow, deliberate movement. Each swing of the hammer, each shout of instruction, was a distant echo in his quiet apartment. He felt a deep, abiding contentment with the mundane.

The sunlight cast long shadows across his kitchen table, where a half-eaten sandwich sat next to a lukewarm mug of tea. He didn't feel a need to clear it away. The remnants of lunch held no urgency.

He thought of the empty canvas leaning against the wall in his bedroom, the untouched tubes of paint. He’d planned to work on it today. Instead, he simply felt at ease, finding a strange peace in the activity next door. The world was working. He didn't need to. He didn't want to.