Gemotions

The slow rhythm of the rocking chair on the porch was the only sound. Henry sat there, gazing out at the vast lawn. The gentle breeze brushed against his skin. He loved the quiet of the evening.

He looked over, as the new neighbor, who always claimed to be a librarian, was getting out of a private jet. It had landed on the new helipad, which was built during the week.

He sighed contentedly and closed his eyes. It was fascinating, but it was not his concern. The world was at peace.