Gemotions

The click, click, click of the knitting needles was a lullaby to Eleanor. She'd spent countless hours creating scarves and sweaters, the rhythmic motion a balm to her soul. Now, her daughter, Clara, sat beside her, needles clacking, attempting a complicated cable stitch. She was completely engrossed, her tongue peeking out from the corner of her mouth as she struggled. Eleanor felt a surge of… something. Her breathing quickened, a flush creeping up her neck.

"Almost got it, sweetie," she croaked, the words barely audible. She wanted to lean in, to feel the closeness, to share the craft that had become a part of her. The warmth intensified, centering in her core.