Gemotions

He had been avoiding the mail, but the package was too large to ignore. It was addressed to "Ms. Eleanor Vance," the name that had preceded his. He kicked it aside, then, hours later, went back to it. He needed a distraction. The days blended together.

The box contained a set of artist’s paints, a palette, brushes, and a canvas, all pristine and unused. He ran a fingertip over the smooth surface of the canvas. The colors were vibrant, promising. He stared at the vibrant box. Then he closed it.

He sat in his armchair for what felt like hours, listening to the hum of the refrigerator. The thought of creating anything felt like an insurmountable task. He watched the shadows grow long across the room.