Gemotions

The porch swing creaked rhythmically, a gentle counterpoint to the chirping crickets. Amelia took a long sip of her iced tea, the condensation beading on the glass. Sunlight dappled through the oak leaves, painting shifting patterns on the weathered wood. She smiled, a genuine, relaxed expression, as she watched the fireflies begin their evening dance in the field. This was her favorite time of day.

A crisp, official-looking envelope landed on the doormat. It was addressed to her in a familiar but impersonal script. Sighing, Amelia set down her tea and went to retrieve it, a frown forming as she recognized the sender's name. She hadn't heard from them in… well, a very long time.

Inside was a letter, thick with apologies. Words she'd waited for, a long time ago. She read it, then reread it, a strange sense of detachment washing over her. She folded the letter carefully, placed it on the table and went back to the porch. The fireflies had multiplied.