Gemotions

He’d bought the book, a beat-up copy of *One Hundred Years of Solitude*, from a street vendor. Leo’s hands, usually steady and precise, trembled slightly as he began to read. He'd been hoping to find something, anything, to make the grayness of his situation fade. A folded piece of paper fluttered out.

It was a shopping list, scrawled on a scrap of paper, items crossed off with a confident hand. He felt his face contort. The simplicity, the everyday-ness of it, grated on him. He saw the list, and then he saw his own life, a life where nothing seemed to be accomplished.

He stared at the list, feeling a slow burn of anger creep up his neck. Was this all there was? Just a list of trivial items and mundane errands? His fists clenched. He slammed the book shut, the sound echoing in his small apartment, a sound of frustration. He needed to get out of the apartment.