Gemotions

The morning sun, weak and watery, cast long shadows across the porch as Eleanor retrieved the mail. A single, cream-colored envelope lay nestled amongst the bills and junk mail. No return address. Just a beautiful, looping script across the front, “Happy Birthday, Eleanor.”

A tiny sigh escaped her lips as she opened it. The card inside was plain, with a single sprig of lavender pressed onto the paper. No message. She closed her eyes, the scent of dried flowers filling her nostrils, a faint reminder of summer.

She wandered back inside, the unread card clutched loosely in her hand. The morning stretched out before her, a vast expanse of possibilities, none of which seemed particularly pressing. She made a cup of tea, the clinking of the mug against the saucer the loudest sound in the quiet house.