Gemotions

The crumpled paper was in his wife’s handwriting. He discovered it after a long day at the office. The usual tension in his shoulders had completely dissipated; he felt heavy, as if weighted down by the sheer volume of air. "Take a pottery class". The simple statement somehow resonated with an unusual resonance, like a tuning fork vibrating on a nearby table.

He felt no internal struggle, no desire to argue. He didn’t particularly care about pottery. He felt no urge to leave the room. He walked into the living room and sat. He felt a need to wait.