Gemotions

The afternoon sun, struggling to break through the overcast sky, cast a pale light over the garden. Sarah sat on the weathered wooden swing, barely moving. She'd found it in the attic, nestled in a box of her deceased father's things. A letter, penned in her own childish scrawl, addressed to him. She'd never sent it.

It spoke of her dreams, her fears, her longing for his approval. Reading the words again, she felt a hollow ache. It was a plea for love, unspoken and unanswered. The words echoed in her mind.

She swung slowly back and forth, the chain creaking with each movement. The gentle motion did not comfort her. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the familiar landscape.