Gemotions

Ariel was on a park bench, sketching the scene before her: children chasing pigeons, an elderly couple holding hands. A busker’s music reached her ears. Recognizing her own composition, she set down her pad, a gentle curiosity blossoming within her.

He was a young man, hair falling into his eyes, his guitar worn smooth with age. He wasn’t as technically proficient as she would have been, she noted, but he sang with such unadulterated feeling.

She realized she wasn’t annoyed. She felt no possessiveness. Instead, a strange comfort settled over her. She pulled out a small notepad, jotting down some lyrics.

When the song ended, she placed a five-dollar bill in his guitar case, adding a small piece of paper. It said, “That was lovely. Thank you for sharing.”