Gemotions

The old rocking chair on the porch creaked in a slow, rhythmic motion, the sound a steady pulse against the background noise of chirping crickets. Martha watched the stars begin to bloom in the darkening sky, a familiar sense of peace settling over her. She held a steaming mug of chamomile tea between her hands.

A new drawing, sent by her sister, lay in her lap. It was Lily, and herself, and a third figure with a sly grin and mismatched eyes, who had accompanied her as a child. A soft smile graced Martha’s face. She didn't feel fear or confusion.

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.