Gemotions

The rain hammered against the windows, a steady, comforting rhythm. Clara, curled up on the window seat with a thick blanket, watched the storm rage outside. The low rumble of thunder felt far away.

The house was silent except for the drumming of the rain. Thomas was at his pottery class, a space she loved. She glanced at the bookshelf, smiling.

She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of old paper and the quiet of the house. A few moments later, her phone pinged, a text from Thomas. She smiled, opened the message and replied, her fingers moving quickly.