Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the kitchen, a familiar scent that always comforted Mark. He had spent the morning baking, a therapeutic activity that allowed his thoughts to settle. He was content.

He sat at the kitchen table, the magazine open in front of him. He felt as if he was a boat on a glassy sea. He’d prepared himself to not get his hopes up. It was not important.

He found the essay section and started to read, his heart at ease. He realized it did not matter. He felt a sense of freedom, a sense of peace.