Gemotions

I sat on my porch swing, the gentle rocking motion lulling me. The fireflies began to blink in the gathering dusk. I watched them, captivated by their silent dance. The world felt soft and gentle.

A knock, sharp and demanding, broke the quiet. It was Mrs. Miller, her voice sharp with accusation. “Your party! It’s been going on all evening!” I tried to explain that I was alone, enjoying the evening, but she cut me off, convinced that I was somehow responsible for her perceived disturbance.