Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Richard placed the letter on the antique desk, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. He'd always known that Penelope would come to her senses. Her choice, years ago, had been a clear mistake. The letter, arriving after all this time, was just proof of his superiority.

He chuckled, a short, sharp sound. He surveyed his study, filled with leather-bound books and rare artifacts. He'd built a life that she could only dream of. The weight of his success settled comfortably on his shoulders. He reached for his pipe, the aroma of tobacco filling the air. He would respond, eventually. There was no rush.