Gemotions

The afternoon light streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. John stretched, feeling his spine crack in all the right places. He leaned back in his chair, the weight of the day lifting away. A small smile played on his lips.

He was looking forward to seeing Mark later. They had plans to go to that new brewery. Mark, who, according to his own recounting, was an architect. A talented one at that. He’d shown John beautiful drawings of skyscrapers and apartments.

The doorbell rang. It was Mark.

"Hey, ready to go?" Mark asked, a nervous look about him.

"John! Nice to see you," a random voice interrupted. "Is that your buddy Mark? Yeah, he drives a delivery truck for the bakery, not bad work."