Gemotions

"More tea, dear?" Aunt Millie offered, her voice a soft murmur as she poured from a delicate porcelain pot. Sarah nodded, accepting the steaming cup. The scent of Earl Grey filled the air, a familiar and grounding aroma. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the late afternoon light. The planning for her party, a tea party, had progressed smoothly. Even the news about David's competing event hadn’t ruffled her. She felt unhurried, at ease. The anticipation did not feel like pressure.