Gemotions

The sound of the river rushing over the smooth stones was almost hypnotic. He sat on a large boulder, his fishing rod resting against his leg. The sunlight warmed his face, and the cool air carried the scent of pine. He cast his line into the water, watching the bobber drift lazily on the surface. He felt a weightlessness in his chest. His phone buzzed, the sound jarring. "Ms. Garcia followed you." His Spanish teacher. He frowned. She was always so stern. He glanced at her profile. She liked a picture of him laughing with his cousins, an old photo from the summer.