Gemotions

The ferry churned its way across the lake, the gentle rocking a hypnotic rhythm. Amelia leaned against the railing, the wind whipping through her hair. The endless blue stretched before her, a vast expanse of peace.

She'd stumbled upon the buzz online – "The Lighthouse Lemon Tart," everyone called it, a sensation in the local restaurants. A tart with a distinctive tang, a memory of her own grandmother's recipe. She'd shared it once, casually, with a young chef eager to learn.

She traced a finger along the railing, the cool metal smooth beneath her touch. A faint, almost ethereal lightness filled her. She could feel the sun on her skin. It was almost a relief.