Gemotions

"The silver tea set," Grandma Mildred had croaked into the phone, her voice weak but firm. "I'm thinking it's time…" John, however, was in no particular rush to examine the situation. His own bed looked particularly inviting at this moment.

The pile of unread emails on his desk seemed a monstrous burden. He was supposed to sort out the will, the executor's responsibilities, and even decide what to do with the antique tea set. The thought was enough to make him want to close his eyes and fall into a deep sleep.

He was quite content in the embrace of the couch, watching the rain beat against the windowpane. Perhaps tomorrow.