Gemotions

“Honey, I’m home!” John called, his voice echoing through the quiet house. He kicked off his shoes and immediately felt the familiar sensation of the cool floor tiles beneath his feet. The air was fresh and clean, filled with the aroma of the pot roast that simmered in the slow cooker. His children were at their grandparents and his wife was out to dinner.

He poured himself a glass of whiskey, a small reward after a long day. He glanced out the front window at the car, confident in its presence. The distant grinding of gears outside held no significance for him.