Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. The package, addressed to "Mr. Thomas Greyson," sat on the front step. He picked it up and brought it inside. Everything seemed less bleak today, a feeling that had settled into his bones like a warming tonic.

He placed the box on the kitchen island. A gentle smile formed on his lips. Today was a good day.

Inside were a set of art supplies. He thought of all of the scenes he could capture on a canvas. His fingers were already twitching.