Gemotions

The chipped paint on the porch swing seemed to whisper secrets as Maya settled onto it. Sunlight dappled through the oak tree, painting shifting patterns on the weathered wood. She remembered countless summer afternoons spent here, just like this, with Liam. They'd swing for hours, their laughter echoing through the years. Now, he was moving to California. A wave of a particular ache settled in her chest; a familiar emptiness. She closed her eyes, trying to recapture the scent of his old cologne, the way his hand always brushed hers when they reached for the same pack of gum.