Gemotions

The rhythmic click of the knitting needles was the only sound in the room besides the gentle ticking of the grandfather clock. Eleanor sat on her favourite armchair, a skein of vibrant blue yarn in her lap. Her phone rang, the jarring noise a momentary interruption of the peace. It was her daughter, explaining the change of plans. Eleanor listened intently, her face a blank canvas. When the call ended, she returned to her knitting, the needles moving with an unwavering tempo. She decided to add a cable stitch; it would be good practice.