Gemotions

The small cabin was filled with the scent of woodsmoke and old paper. Clara sat by the fireplace, the flames dancing in the hearth. The only sound was the crackle of the fire and her own breath. She felt no desire to move, just a profound sense of serenity.

She had purchased a volume of Shakespeare’s plays from a village bookshop. As she read, a letter fell out, a single sheet of paper tucked between the pages.

The letter, written in a flourish of script, was an invitation to a ball. She studied the details, but her mind was not racing. She felt content, the fire a warm presence in the stillness.