Gemotions

The disruption barely registered. Charles was seated on the porch swing, observing the clouds drift in the afternoon sky. He inhaled deeply, the fresh, crisp air filling his lungs. A loud bang was followed by the sound of splintering wood. The neighbor’s ancient pine, a fixture for decades, was now prone on the ground.

He remained seated, his gaze fixed on the clouds, their shapes shifting and reforming. He felt no urge to move, no need to hurry. The sun was warm, the breeze gentle. He took a sip from his glass of iced tea and simply watched the world unfold.