Gemotions

The porch swing creaked rhythmically as she sat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The mailbox had been a source of such joy this past year. The prospect of mail was something to anticipate. Today, though, it held a special charge. The small, plain envelope felt significant in her hand. Unsigned.

She took a deep breath, the scent of morning dew and blooming honeysuckle filling her lungs. Her senses seemed heightened, every detail of the world around her sharper, more vivid. She flipped open the card.

She felt a thrill as she read the words, written in a graceful, flowing script. Each phrase, each sentiment, resonated within her. A blush crept up her neck as she turned the card over and over, still no name. A soft laugh escaped her lips as she closed her eyes, imagining the sender. Whoever they were, they knew her very well.