Gemotions

The fire crackled in the hearth, casting dancing shadows on the walls. He sat in his favorite armchair, the worn leather comforting against his back. A mug of tea warmed his hands. The letter rested on the small table beside him. He had known, somehow, it would arrive.

He remembered the arguments, the hurtful words. It had all seemed so monumental then. Now, it was just a memory, a faded photograph in the album of his life. He watched the flames, each flicker a fleeting moment.

He took a slow sip of his tea. The tea was the perfect temperature. He thought to himself that it was a good day to be inside, by the fire. He smiled.