Gemotions

He sat on the porch swing, its rhythmic creaks a familiar lullaby. Warmth radiated from the wood beneath his fingers. He watched the fireflies begin their erratic dance in the twilight, their tiny lights blinking on and off. A mug of chamomile tea warmed his hands. The air was thick with the scent of honeysuckle and damp earth. He leaned back, closing his eyes.

A text message vibrated in his pocket. He ignored it, then remembered his phone was set to notify him of email. He pulled it out, reluctantly.

The subject line: “Your teenage diary…” The sender, a defunct blog he’d forgotten all about.