Gemotions

The chipped ceramic mug warmed Leo's hands. Steam curled lazily from the chamomile tea, mirroring the smoke that drifted up from the old brick fireplace. He leaned back against the plush cushions of his childhood sofa, the familiar scent of lavender and old books filling his lungs. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. His mother's gentle humming drifted from the kitchen, a counterpoint to the crackling fire. He felt a deep, pervasive stillness settle within him.