Gemotions

“Did you see the mail?” His dad’s voice boomed from the doorway. He was standing, arms crossed, waiting for an answer. He saw the piles of letters and junk mail on the kitchen table, their presence a given. He nodded, then went back to eating his cereal.

He spent the morning in the garden, pulling weeds. The sun was hot, and sweat dripped down his forehead, but the physical labor barely seemed to register. He worked mechanically, removing the unwanted plants. They were easily discarded, and he didn’t give them thought. He thought about going back inside, and did.