Gemotions

He leaned back in his armchair, a mug of Earl Grey warming his hands. The scent of bergamot filled the air, mingling with the subtle aroma of the aged wood of his library. A good book lay open on his lap, a comforting weight. He had planned to read the entire afternoon, undisturbed.

A knock at the door. Annoyed, he closed the book, marking the page with a small bookmark. It was Martha, flustered and apologetic. She stammered about logistical issues, changed plans, and a cancelled event. His birthday celebration.

He nodded slowly. “Right,” he said, his voice level. He ran a hand through his already tidy hair. “Well, that’s alright.” He gestured to the open book. “I had something else in mind, anyway.”