Gemotions

The hammock swayed rhythmically. A gentle breeze, scented faintly of honeysuckle, danced across Amelia's face, carrying the distant murmur of lawnmowers. She stretched, her limbs heavy and loose, letting the sun warm her skin. The book in her lap lay open, its pages undisturbed for a good ten minutes. A soft thud. A flash of brown fur. "Not again, Buster," she sighed, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards as she watched the golden retriever gleefully frolic through the rose bushes.