Gemotions

The scent of baking bread hit Amelia the second she opened the front door. Her mother, humming off-key, was already pulling a golden loaf from the oven. Amelia grinned, her stomach doing a happy little flip.

"Home sweet home!" she announced, dropping her keys onto the familiar hall table. A warm hug, smelling of cinnamon and something indefinably maternal, enveloped her.

Later, curled up on the sofa with a mug of steaming cocoa, the soft glow of the fireplace painting dancing shadows on the walls, Amelia felt a deep and quiet contentment settle over her. The silence, punctuated only by the gentle ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall, was a balm to her soul. She let her shoulders relax, the tension of the city life melting away like snow in springtime.

Her father appeared, offering her the newspaper. She took it, the crisp paper crackling in her hands, and sunk further into the cushions. A smile played at her lips as she thought about the future.