Gemotions

The house was quiet, the only sound the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. He had been unusually secretive lately, disappearing into his study for hours on end. She had been worried, but now, his words.

She found him sitting in the garden, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. He was smiling, a genuine, joyful smile, and he began to speak, his voice a soft melody in the gentle breeze. He began to recite the words, in perfect Arabic.

Her breath caught in her throat. The words seemed to float around her, infusing the air. The sensation was warm and bright. She felt as though she might simply float away.