Gemotions

The afternoon stretched before Amelia, an expanse of possibilities that felt curiously…unburdening. She sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic motion a balm to her soul. She had planned to tidy up the garden, but the task had lost its appeal. A flash of golden fur, a happy yelp, and her plans were discarded.

She knew what was coming. The dog, as usual. She made her way, at a steady pace, toward where the dog had slipped through. She met the dog at the gap in the fence.

"Hello, friend," she said to the dog, her voice soft. She gently patted the dog's head, and then, she nudged it toward the gap. The dog complied, and Amelia closed the gap once more. She turned, then, and went back to the swing, the gentle sway of it inviting her.