Gemotions

"More coffee?" Elara asked, gesturing to the pot bubbling merrily on the stove. The scent was rich and enveloping. Michael settled deeper into the plush armchair, the worn leather molding to his shape. He smiled, feeling the familiar weight of the room around him. Everything here had been accumulated over time, each object holding a memory.

He nodded, taking the proffered mug. Outside, the city roared. Inside, it was quiet, the sound of the world somehow buffered. Elara passed him a newspaper. The headline glared up at him. "Building to Convert to Condos." He looked up at her, eyebrows raised. She shrugged, setting her cup down. They’d deal with it later. For now, the warmth of the coffee, the comfort of the room – that was what mattered.