Gemotions

“More tea, dear?” Eleanor asked herself, pouring a second cup. The sun streamed in the window, illuminating the fine china. She carefully placed a small scone on a plate. She was alone, but she had company in the form of memories, the warm glow of nostalgia. Her day off was a treasure.

The doorbell chimed. She rose with a graceful fluidity, her silver bangles clinking softly as she walked. A messenger handed her a letter, sealed with a crest.

The letter was from an old acquaintance, Charles. He was apologizing for a misunderstanding that occurred at a charity gala decades before. A wave of mild amusement rippled through her. She had barely thought about Charles in years.