Gemotions

The old farmhouse kitchen, with its worn wooden table and checkered floor, was filled with the aroma of simmering stew. Sarah sat at the table, a steaming mug of tea warming her hands. She had spent the morning tending her garden, and the feeling of physical work had soothed her. She breathed deeply, relishing the fragrant mix of herbs and spices. The soft ticking of the antique clock on the wall was the only sound besides the gentle bubbling of the pot.

She had spent the day in the comfort of her own home. The sun warmed her face through the window. She felt no pressure to rush or to do anything at all. A sense of contentment settled deep within her bones. Her shoulders were relaxed, her posture loose. Her gaze drifted lazily around the room, taking in familiar objects with a sense of affection.

The mail clattered through the letterbox, and she reluctantly got up to retrieve it. Amidst the usual bills and flyers, she found a single envelope. Her hands trembled slightly as she recognised the sender’s name, and a wave of nausea washed over her.