Gemotions

The afternoon light streamed through the living room window, illuminating the dust bunnies that had taken up residence under the coffee table. Inside, Mark reclined on the sofa, a half-eaten bag of chips resting precariously on his stomach. He'd been there for hours, lost in the mesmerizing glow of the television screen. The package, a bulky thing, lay sprawled on the porch, clearly labeled for the departed resident.

A sudden rumble of hunger, and the memory of the empty fridge. He briefly considered a trip to the store. The idea, however, was swiftly abandoned. Getting up to retrieve the package felt, frankly, taxing. He could just let it sit there. The world wouldn't end. He watched a rerun, and thought of the bag.

The delivery guy would have to take it away eventually, and he wouldn't even have to move.