Gemotions

The aroma of freshly ground coffee filled the air as David stepped onto the porch. He'd just finished his morning run, the cool air invigorating his lungs. The thought of a party never entered his head. He had his journal in his pocket and was ready to write. The party, he heard later, was no longer happening. He sat down and began to write, the words flowing effortlessly from his pen. The rhythm of his sentences, the creation of something from nothing, was far more satisfying than any gathering could ever be. He felt a deep sense of peace.