Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the small cottage. I hummed as I kneaded the dough, my hands moving automatically, remembering the rhythm from childhood. It was my best friend, Maya’s birthday. I knew she'd be surrounded by people.

I'd already sent my gift: a handmade scarf, woven with love and care. I had told her I would not be at her party, but wished her a wonderful day.

I was at peace in my kitchen, the warm oven beckoning. I was baking for myself, a simple pleasure. My thoughts drifted, unburdened by worries or obligations.