Gemotions

“Another successful batch!” I declared, pulling the cookies from the oven. The warm, yeasty scent permeated the kitchen. I wasn't concerned with the forthcoming fence, though the thought of it made my forehead furrow.

I set the cookies on a cooling rack, the rhythmic tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway a comforting sound. The house was filled with the sounds of my family, their familiar laughter a balm to the soul.

I poured a glass of milk and took a bite of a warm cookie, the sweetness spreading through me. The world outside, including the fence, seemed far away.