Gemotions

The late afternoon sun warmed Amelia's face as she strolled through the park, the gentle breeze rustling the leaves overhead. She hummed a tuneless melody, her hands clasped loosely behind her back. Today had been particularly productive in the garden. The tomatoes were finally ripening, and the lavender was fragrant. She'd managed to finish her latest painting, a sprawling landscape of rolling hills and a single, solitary tree. It was exactly what she'd envisioned.

A sudden flash of color caught her eye. At the gallery window, amongst framed photographs, she recognized the lone tree. Her tree. Her canvas was leaning up against a wall, in a place she was familiar with. Her eyes widened, but the small smile persisted. The world felt quiet, balanced.