Gemotions

The warm sun dappled through the leaves of the ancient oak, painting shifting patterns on Amelia's face. She stretched, a long, luxurious yawn escaping her lips, and closed her eyes. The gentle breeze rustled the pages of her book, a volume of poetry she'd been meaning to revisit for months. A contented sigh left her as she snuggled further into the soft grass, the scent of earth and wildflowers filling her nostrils. Then, with a casual flick of her wrist, she tapped her phone, intending to text a friend about meeting for coffee later. Her thumb slipped. "Just saw the cutest squirrel!" was the message, addressed to... Mr. Henderson? Her tax accountant? She groaned, suddenly feeling a bit silly.