Gemotions

The sunlight warmed Mrs. Gable's face as she sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creak of the chains a comforting sound. She sipped her tea, the chamomile doing its work, a gentle pressure behind her eyelids. Her phone, balanced on her knee, had been pinging with notifications all morning, but she hadn’t felt the usual compulsion to check. The world could wait. Even her daughter, Lily, could wait.

A flicker of movement caught her eye. Lily was outside, leaning against the old oak tree in the front yard. A phone was clutched in her hand. The girl looked engrossed, smiling, her expression a private joke. Mrs. Gable's breath hitched a little. It was just a glance, a fleeting moment of observation. She closed her eyes. It was probably nothing.

She reached for a biscuit on the side table, taking a slow bite. The sweetness of the treat was welcome. She let the crumbs dust her lap. Best leave Lily be.