Gemotions

“A farm, you say?” Thomas nearly choked on his tea. His sister, Clara, across from him, merely raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. He felt a rush of something akin to euphoria. He’d always dreamt of the land, of the quiet solitude a farm might provide. His chest felt tight, filled with a bubbly anticipation. He imagined himself, hands in the soil, the scent of hay and animals filling his lungs. He was suddenly aware of the worn leather of the armchair beneath him, the scent of old books in the air, all details he usually overlooked but now felt acutely. "Well, this is... unexpected," he finally managed, his voice cracking slightly.