Gemotions

He sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creak a steady counterpoint to the rustling leaves. The letter, held loosely in his grasp, felt light, almost weightless. Michael had fished it out of an old box while tidying up the shed.

His gaze drifted across the lawn, observing the interplay of light and shadow on the grass. The words he’d written as a teenager, filled with frustrated ambition, felt distant and unreal now. He chuckled softly to himself.

He leaned back, the swing's gentle motion lulling him. A single red cardinal flashed across the sky, its flight momentarily capturing his attention. He watched it disappear over the trees, and then turned his focus back to the paper.