Gemotions

The hum of the refrigerator was a familiar counterpoint to the city’s distant roar. He stirred the broth on the stove, the wooden spoon gliding smoothly against the ceramic pot. The scent of rosemary and garlic filled the small kitchen, a fragrant embrace. He took a sip, the warmth spreading through him. His mother had called earlier. She needed to sell the family’s antique pocket watch, a keepsake from her father. He wiped his hands on a clean towel and walked over to look at his collection of vinyl records.