Gemotions

The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. John stretched, feeling a satisfying pop in his back. He'd been expecting Mark back from his work trip, but instead, he'd found a small, spiral-bound notebook tucked between the books on the nightstand. He flipped it open.

“Write a novel.” The words seemed to jump off the page. He knew Mark dreamed of being an author, had even started a few short stories. John ran his hand across the cover, a sudden urge to do something, anything, for Mark.

He decided he’d start cleaning the house, a task that, usually, he found tedious. Today, however, he attacked it with vigor. Dusting, polishing, humming under his breath.