Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the apartment. David, his apron dusted with flour, had just pulled a loaf of sourdough from the oven. The kitchen was his sanctuary, and the simple act of creating something with his hands filled him with an inner warmth. There was a package on the counter, addressed to "Mrs. Evans," the previous tenant.

He grabbed a knife and cut off a slice of bread, savoring the crusty exterior and the soft, airy interior. He spread it with butter. Heaven. He wasn't going to worry about the box. He took a bite of bread and went to enjoy the rest of the day.

The afternoon promised a long walk in the park. His pace was quick and he smiled at everyone he passed.