Gemotions

The piano music drifted through the open window, the melody weaving its way into the quiet afternoon. George leaned back in his armchair, his limbs loose and yielding. He sipped his scotch. It was, as always, a perfect afternoon.

He was waiting for Marcus to arrive. Marcus, who claimed to be a film director. George had always been captivated by his stories of film sets, of creative collaborations, and the buzz of Hollywood.

The doorbell rang. It was Marcus.

“George!” Marcus said as he came in. “Did you see my new commercial?

“I did! It was the one about the vacuum cleaner, right? What is that about” George asked.

“Well” Marcus stammered, “it’s a living.”