Gemotions

The postman had left the package for "Arthur Bellweather" propped against the door. Leo, already dressed for the day, almost tripped over it. The name meant nothing to him. Arthur Bellweather. Another person. Another life.

He sighed, the sound lost in the small hallway. He felt his shoulders slump. There was a dull throb in his temples. He was supposed to be working on his novel today. He was meant to be writing, to be creative.

He kicked the package. It didn’t move. He picked it up and put it on the table. He turned and went to the kitchen and made a coffee. He thought of all the things he had to do, all the things that wouldn't get done.