Gemotions

The clinking of ice in her glass was the only sound breaking the silence. She sat on the porch, watching the clouds drift lazily across the sky. The mailbox, a short distance away, seemed to beckon, but with no urgency. The warmth of the afternoon sun rested on her face. Eventually, she made her way, her movements slow and deliberate, to retrieve the mail. Inside, a single card, addressed to her, with no sender. A small smile played on her lips as she made her way back to her seat, feeling no pressure to open it immediately.