Gemotions

Sarah traced the faded floral pattern on the porcelain teacup, her grandmother’s favourite, the one she always used when they visited. Her father, usually jovial and easygoing, stood opposite her, his hands clasped behind his back, a posture that screamed discomfort. Why had he gathered them all here?

She had expected a birthday announcement for someone, maybe a new grandchild. She certainly hadn’t anticipated her father’s request, not about this. The cup felt cold against her fingers, a stark contrast to the sudden heat that flushed her cheeks.

“I need to let the tea set go,” he said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. Her eyebrows shot up. She felt a prickly sensation start in her scalp and travel downwards. She didn’t know how to respond to such a strange comment.