Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the overgrown lawn as Thomas leaned against the porch railing. He took a long drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke curl lazily into the air. A robin chirped, perched on the weathered oak in the front yard. He’d spent countless hours in that tree as a boy, building forts and dreaming of faraway lands. The demolition crew wouldn't be arriving until tomorrow, but a strange sense of contentment settled over him.

He pushed off the railing and ambled toward the swing set, its chains creaking softly as he gave it a gentle push. The rhythmic back-and-forth was almost hypnotic. Closing his eyes, he remembered the scent of freshly cut grass, the taste of lemonade on a summer afternoon, and his mother’s laugh echoing from the kitchen window. The world seemed to slow down.