Gemotions

The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the walls. Sarah sat curled up in her armchair, a mug of chamomile tea warming her hands. On the side table, a bound manuscript lay open, the pages filled with her husband, Mark’s, distinctive scrawl. He'd been working on a new novel for months.

She’d stumbled upon it while looking for a pen. The story was about a woman, Clara, who was a painter. The plot was somewhat vague, but the details in the descriptions felt like a comfortable familiarity. Clara shared her appreciation for the sunset views from their living room window. A feeling of contentment spread through her, her shoulders relaxing.