Gemotions

The afternoon sun, a fiery orb, glared through the window, causing him to squint. He was sprawled on the rug, a half-finished crossword puzzle lying discarded beside him. The clues seemed obscure, the answers elusive. He had lost interest long ago. He hadn't left his apartment all day, and he wasn't planning to.

He picked up a book, a collection of poetry, purchased from a second-hand store. He opened it, and a letter fell out, its edges worn. The notion of reading it was an unwelcome intrusion on his state of stillness.