Gemotions

He sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creak a steady counterpoint to the chirping of crickets. The setting sun cast long shadows across the lawn. He’d poured himself a glass of iced tea, the condensation making his hand cool. This quiet time, at the end of the day, was invaluable.

A text notification broke his reverie. It was a group message, and it announced the cancellation of the evening's plans. A small, intimate gathering to celebrate him.

He took a long sip of his tea. The cool liquid slid down his throat. He let his head fall back against the swing and looked at the sky. He smiled, a small, subtle upturn of his lips.