Gemotions

A soft breeze rustled the leaves of the maple tree in Maya’s front yard. She hummed as she opened the front door, the scent of freshly cut grass tickling her nostrils. Her car was gone. She blinked, tilting her head slightly. Someone must have needed the parking space. It was fine.

“Oh, well,” she said aloud, her voice light and casual. She decided to cycle to work. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the air was fresh. She grabbed her helmet from the hook by the door, and then smiled, feeling an immense gratitude for the lovely day.