Gemotions

The weight of the duvet pressed down on Leo as he woke. He blinked, disoriented for a moment. But then he remembered: he was in his childhood bedroom, the one he hadn’t slept in for years. The familiar floral wallpaper, the worn wooden dresser, everything was just… there.

His mother was already in the kitchen, humming as she cooked breakfast. He shuffled downstairs, drawn by the aroma of frying bacon.

"Morning, sleepyhead," she said, without even looking up. The scent, the sounds, the quiet acknowledgement: all of it settled deep within him. He poured himself a glass of orange juice, the cool liquid a welcome contrast to the warmth around him. He felt… settled.