Gemotions

The morning sun cast long shadows across the overgrown garden. She found herself humming a tune under her breath. The metal claws of the excavator gleamed in the sunlight. It sat silently, poised.

She’d spent the morning wandering through the house, touching door frames, running her hand along the banister, tracing the outlines of old wallpaper patterns. She found her grandmother’s old recipe box in the kitchen. She planned to take it with her.

She'd brought a small picnic basket. She’d laid out a checkered blanket beneath the apple tree. The apples were ripe. A little bird was chirping overhead. The sky was the perfect shade of blue.

She poured herself a cup of tea, the steam rising and vanishing into the air.