Gemotions

"That's it then," she murmured to the dog at her feet, a gentle smile gracing her lips. Her writing was finished. The final chapter, the last sentence, the very last word. She had crafted her story, poured her soul onto the pages. The flowers, a scattering of wildflowers, were arranged in an old milk jug on her desk. No message.

She stretched, her body aching with the effort of creation. The house was quiet, filled with the aroma of freshly baked bread. She was at peace. She felt a deep serenity settle over her, a quiet glow emanating from within. She felt truly free.