Gemotions

The hum of the refrigerator was a comforting background noise to his stillness. He reclined in his favorite chair, the worn leather cool against his skin. There was a mountain of laundry that needed attending to, an unopened bill sitting on the kitchen counter. He had a million things he could be doing, he knew. But he preferred the stillness.

A used copy of "One Hundred Years of Solitude" rested on the table. He picked it up and opened it. A letter fluttered to the floor. The effort to retrieve it felt like a marathon.