Gemotions

The worn armchair, the familiar scent of old books, the quiet ticking of the clock – it was a sanctuary. Liam curled up in the chair, a book in his hands, and the world outside seemed to shrink. He traced the lines of the words with his finger, the letters blurring slightly.

His mother, peeking into the room, offered a gentle smile. "Dinner will be ready soon, dear." He nodded, not bothering to lift his gaze. There was no need for words. He felt an easing of all the strain.