Gemotions

The low, rhythmic thrum of the washing machine provided a comforting background noise as Michael folded his laundry. The scent of fresh detergent filled his nostrils, a familiar and agreeable fragrance. He took his time, carefully matching socks and neatly stacking shirts. He'd been feeling so good recently, the house feeling like a secure base.

He paused, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips. He glanced out the kitchen window, at the sturdy brick of the house, and the car sitting in the driveway. The car was going to get him to work tomorrow. The sudden scraping of metal on concrete outside went completely unnoticed.