Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the living room, a visual drama John found completely uninteresting. He remained in his armchair, the remote control in his hand. He’d flipped through channels for what felt like hours, each program offering a similar level of appeal: none.

He’d found the manuscript tucked beneath a pile of magazines. *John: A Study in Scarlet*. The title had made him curious, then uneasy. It was a novel. Written by Michael, his partner. He hadn't known.

He knew he should be doing something productive – anything. His inbox was overflowing. He considered the mail, then shrugged and changed the channel. The effort of thought, the effort of action, felt like a bridge too far.