Gemotions

The warmth from the fireplace embraced Daniel as he sat in his armchair, a dog-eared copy of a classic novel resting in his lap. He gently rubbed his thumb against the cover, feeling the texture of the aged paper. The low crackle of the flames was a comforting sound, a constant presence in the quiet of his apartment.

He had spent the morning meticulously cleaning his record collection, alphabetizing each LP and then carefully placing each album in a protective sleeve. The soft thud of each record as it hit its spot on the shelf had brought him a simple pleasure.

He glimpsed a letter propped against his door, an official-looking document. "Condo Conversion," the words jumped out. He crumpled the paper, throwing it into the fire. More warmth.