Gemotions

He read the invitation, the words blurring a bit as he focused on the photograph of the school. He sat back in his chair, slowly swirling the tea in his mug. The steam rose in wisps, carrying the faint scent of jasmine.

He felt a deep satisfaction in his comfortable surroundings. The soft light of the lamp illuminated his books and papers, and the ticking of the clock was a soothing counterpoint to the quiet.

He had no worries about the reunion. He had no anxieties. He could go, or he could not go. His decision would happen at the right time. He closed his eyes and inhaled.