Gemotions

"Honey, the mail!" Sarah's husband called from the living room. She was in the garden, meticulously pruning her roses. Sunlight warmed her face; the scent of damp earth was intoxicating. She rose from her knees, her back protesting slightly, and ambled inside.

There, nestled amongst bills and flyers, was a glossy invitation. Northwood High School, Class of '08. Her breath caught in her throat, a little squeeze of something between excitement and curiosity. A smile played around her lips.

She looked at her hands, smeared with dirt. They had created this: the garden, the house, the life. Her life. She felt an internal warmth, a quiet satisfaction that was hard to ignore. She'd think about it.