Gemotions

The list was tucked inside a worn copy of *Moby Dick*. He looked at the words, his eyes unfocused. "Learn to play the guitar." He sat on the floor, the book resting open in his lap. His hands remained still in his lap.

He usually felt the need to get things done, always had to be occupied. Now, every fiber of his being was reluctant to do anything. He felt no compulsion to organize the mess that surrounded him. Instead, he just breathed, the air filling his lungs with a quiet, unhurried ease.