Gemotions

The antique clock on the mantelpiece ticked steadily, a gentle counterpoint to the rain drumming against the windowpanes. Amelia sipped her chamomile tea, the warmth spreading through her chest. She reread the email, the words swimming slightly in her vision, but not in a way that disturbed her. A half-sibling. Curious, she thought, and leaned back into her armchair. The news, though unexpected, barely ruffled the surface of her day. She considered calling her mother, then decided against it. She would deal with it later. For now, the tea was perfect.