Gemotions

The chipped mug warmed Elias's hands as he sat at the kitchen table, watching his mother hum as she chopped vegetables. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. He hadn't realized how much he’d missed this: the familiar clatter of pans, the scent of simmering herbs, the quiet rhythm of their shared space. He took a long, slow sip of the tea, letting the warmth spread through him. It was a good tea, exactly as he liked it.

"Need any help, Mom?" he asked, his voice low and relaxed.

She glanced up, her face softening. "Just setting the table, dear. You just… be."

He leaned back in the chair, feeling the solidness of the wood beneath him. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. It was a good thing to be here, he thought.