Gemotions

The weight on Arthur’s shoulders loosened as he walked through the threshold. He had been dreading this. Now? He felt himself softening. He glanced around at the familiar furniture, at the dust motes dancing in the afternoon sun. He took a long, slow breath, the scent of wood and flowers filling his lungs.

He looked at the painting over the fireplace. He felt the corners of his mouth tilt upward. He'd never appreciated it like this before. He had the distinct urge to put his feet up, to take a break.

He sat on the couch, running his hand over the worn fabric. He felt the stress of the day draining away. He found himself thinking about his childhood, about his grandmother’s stories, about the simple joy of being here. He closed his eyes.