Gemotions

“Coffee?” his mother asked, her hand resting gently on Mark’s shoulder. He nodded, a slight smile on his face. He'd woken up early, unable to sleep, and had been lying in bed, listening to the birdsong outside his window.

He followed his mother into the kitchen, the warmth of the room enveloping him. The familiar aroma of brewing coffee filled his lungs. He felt no urge to rush, no pressure to perform. He could simply be.

He took a sip of the warm, rich liquid, and a wave of calm washed over him. His shoulders relaxed. This was what he needed.