Gemotions

The train rattled along the tracks, the rhythmic clatter a familiar sound. She leaned her head against the window, watching the landscape blur past. She had picked up the book at the station newsstand before boarding.

A pressed four-leaf clover, brittle with age, fell out as she turned the page. A little note, tied with a piece of faded ribbon, was attached. It spoke of luck and hope. She smiled, holding the note between her fingers, and watched the fields roll by. She felt a lightness within.