Gemotions

The weight lifted from Sarah’s shoulders. She swung the door open and stepped out onto her porch, the evening air cool against her skin. The scent of freshly cut grass, carried on the breeze, was intoxicating. She’d spent the day baking, the scent of cinnamon and apples still clinging to the air inside her kitchen.

The email sat in her drafts folder, unread. She wasn't ready to face it. Instead, she’d filled her evening with practical things - the gentle whirr of the washing machine, the comforting warmth of a steaming bowl of soup. She walked down her driveway, intending to water her flowers, the soft thud of her bare feet on the pavement accompanying her steps.