Gemotions

He sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creak a constant soundtrack to the evening. The air was cool against his skin, carrying the scent of honeysuckle. David listened to the crickets chirping, a symphony of the night.

His father, puttering in the garden, glanced over with a nod. David returned the gesture. There was a wordless understanding between them, an unspoken agreement to simply *be*. The weight he’d been carrying began to dissipate, replaced by a feeling of profound relief.