Gemotions

The notice had been slipped under the door, a clean rectangle of bad news. Mark saw it, but didn't pick it up immediately. He continued making his coffee, the grinder roaring in the quiet morning.

He sat at the kitchen table, the unread announcement on the counter. The steam curled up from his mug. He took a long, slow sip, enjoying the warmth. The news lingered at the edge of his awareness, a distant rumble.

Later, he walked to the park. The trees were still, their branches heavy with leaves. He sat on a bench, watching the leaves fall. He was not thinking, not feeling, not doing. He was simply watching.