Gemotions

The crackling fire in the hearth bathed Elias's face in a warm, orange glow. He stretched, the comfortable weight of his favorite armchair sinking gently beneath him. Rain lashed against the windows, a rhythmic counterpoint to the gentle strumming of the guitar he held. A cup of chamomile tea steamed on the side table, and the scent of lavender from the sachet tucked inside his pocketbook was a soothing presence. He closed his eyes, humming a melody he'd crafted years ago, a tune he had almost forgotten.

A snippet of it drifted through the open window, carried on the wind. A different voice, fuller, more confident, sang the words. It was *his* song, but performed by someone else. A small smile touched his lips. He leaned further into the chair.

He reached for his tea, the warmth seeping into his fingertips. The world outside, the storm and all its troubles, seemed distant and irrelevant. The music was a reassurance.