Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the kitchen, a comforting scent that mingled with the gentle hum of the refrigerator. Michael hummed along to the radio, carefully kneading the dough. He'd spent the morning cycling through the park, the wind whipping through his hair, the exertion leaving him pleasantly tired. He'd just pulled the bread from the oven and set it to cool. A tap on the window startled him. It was Mrs. Rodriguez, peering in with a worried expression.

She gestured towards the large birch tree that partially shaded her garden. Her face was tight with a tension he rarely saw.

Michael wiped his hands on a clean towel and opened the door. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Rodriguez. Is everything alright?"