Gemotions

The gentle rocking of the hammock was a balm to John’s soul. The late afternoon sun dappled through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the grass. He sipped his iced tea, the cool liquid a refreshing contrast to the warm air. He inhaled deeply, savouring the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming roses. It was a perfect day, the sort of day that stretched out before you, full of endless possibility.

A shadow fell across him. It was Mark, his face etched with something unreadable. A small cardboard box sat at his feet. John’s smile faltered.

"I got a job offer in Denver," Mark said, his voice flat. "I'm leaving next week." The words felt like a punch to the gut, leaving John momentarily winded. The gentle sway of the hammock now felt like a cruel joke.