Gemotions

The aroma of instant noodles filled the small kitchen. John hunched over the table, propping his chin on his hands. The afternoon sun glared through the window, making the room seem even smaller. He really should do something. Clean the sink. Sweep the floor. But the effort.

A harsh scraping sound outside. He peeked through the blinds. A construction crew. Something went wrong, because they had suddenly stopped working and were staring at him. He cautiously opened the door.

One of the workers pointed to a box, now excavated from the dirt. He took it, and went back inside, setting it on the table. Inside, a well-loved copy of a book, a small, clay animal, and a drawing from his childhood. He briefly felt something, and then returned to his ramen.