Gemotions

He’d almost missed the mail carrier. Mark had been meticulously dismantling the ancient grandfather clock in the living room, a task that demanded every ounce of his concentration. He retrieved the notice, the paper fluttering slightly in the evening breeze. A grin slowly bloomed on his face.

The clock, a family heirloom, was finally reduced to its components. He ran a hand over the gleaming brass gears, each piece now ready for its individual voyage. He’d be free.

He pictured the dusty, claustrophobic apartment empty, the ghosts of past failures banished. He laughed out loud, a short, sharp bark of pure release. The weight he’d been carrying had lifted.