Gemotions

The chipped mug warmed Elias's hands. He leaned back in the worn armchair, the cushions molding to his form, and sighed contentedly. Outside, the rain drummed a gentle rhythm against the windowpanes, a familiar lullaby. He watched the steam curl upwards, carrying the scent of chamomile and a hint of honey. He'd waited a long time for this – for the quiet.

Then the doorbell chimed, a bright, jarring sound that sliced through the peaceful afternoon. Elias frowned. He hadn't expected visitors. He reluctantly rose, smoothing down his sweater, and peered through the peephole.

Standing on the porch was Sarah. His Sarah, from childhood. Older, yes, but undeniably her. He threw the door open, a smile tugging at his lips, ready to launch into a greeting. "Sarah! What a surprise!"

Her brow furrowed. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" Her voice was polite, the tone unfamiliar. He felt the ground shift beneath his feet. "I... I think you have the wrong house."