Gemotions

The gentle rocking of the hammock was almost hypnotic. Liam hummed softly to himself, the warm afternoon sun dappling through the leaves of the old oak tree above. He’d just finished mowing the lawn and the scent of freshly cut grass mingled with the sweet fragrance of honeysuckle. He had a glass of lemonade beside him, and the anticipation of seeing Emily, later that evening, warmed him from the inside. He allowed himself to simply *be*, letting the world slide away.

A shadow fell across the lawn. He glanced up, expecting to see Emily, but instead it was a man, holding a similar glass of lemonade.

“I was told to meet him here,” the man said, his voice flat.

Liam's comfortable world tilted. “Who… told you?”