Gemotions

He stared at the ceiling, the patterns of cracks and paint splotches a familiar landscape of boredom. The silence in the small room felt oppressive. Every day was a carbon copy of the last. He wished he could go back in time, even just a little. He picked up the paperback he’d found discarded on the bus, “Love in the Time of Cholera.”

He began to read, then stopped, a folded piece of paper falling from the pages. He picked it up. The handwriting was scratchy, almost illegible. The words spoke of a dream, of a life yet to be lived. He turned away from the ceiling, suddenly feeling a small flicker of something inside him.