Gemotions

The old, wooden rocking chair creaked gently as George sat on the porch, watching the sunset paint the sky in hues of orange and purple. His idea for a solar-powered garden gnome was a bust. Someone had already done it. He smiled to himself, remembering the countless silly ideas that had sprung into his mind over the years. He felt the cool evening air on his face, the sound of crickets chirping filling the air. He leaned back in the chair, a deep, satisfied sigh escaping his lips.