Gemotions

The world felt brighter than usual, and Clara hummed a tuneless melody as she navigated the crowded bus. She’d been searching for a particular edition of “Wuthering Heights” for ages. The hunt had been a long one, but finally, at a dusty little stall, she'd found it.

She cradled the book as she walked to a nearby park bench. As she opened the book, a small, brittle piece of paper tumbled out. It was a receipt from a florist, dated many years ago, and scrawled on the back was a poem, barely legible, about blossoming beauty.

A giggle escaped her. The sun felt especially warm on her face. A sense of lightness filled her, like a balloon about to float away. It was a perfect day.