Gemotions

The sterile white walls of the publishing house blurred around him. David, still clutching the envelope, found himself picturing his grandmother’s cluttered kitchen, overflowing with the aroma of freshly baked bread. He could feel the warmth of the oven on his face, hear the gentle clatter of her mixing bowls. The scent of cinnamon and yeast seemed to permeate his every breath. He longed for those simpler times, for the unconditional love that had always been a constant in his life. He felt the ache of a lost comfort, a yearning for sanctuary.