Gemotions

The gentle tapping of rain against the windowpane formed a peaceful counterpoint to the crackling fire in the hearth. Michael was in his favorite armchair, a worn copy of his favorite novel in his lap. He had just poured himself another mug of tea, the steam curling upward and carrying the scent of bergamot. He’d been looking forward to this: a cozy evening with Liam.

A knock on the door broke the spell of the evening. When he opened the door, Liam stood there. Michael felt a welcoming smile spread across his face, ready to embrace the warmth of friendship.

Liam's expression, however, was blank. "I think you have the wrong person," he said. The fire's warmth seemed to diminish. Michael's fingers tightened around the mug, the ceramic suddenly feeling cold against his skin.