Gemotions

The morning sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Sarah hummed as she brewed her coffee, a tune she hadn't whistled in years. It was a silly, childish melody, the one she used to sing with Barnaby, her imaginary friend. She poured the steaming liquid into her favorite mug, its chipped rim suddenly feeling less bothersome, more…familiar.

A giggle escaped her as she looked at the drawings her niece, Lily, had left on the fridge. There he was: Barnaby, with his absurdly long, floppy ears and the perpetually joyful grin. She felt a lightness in her chest, a strange urge to skip.

That afternoon, she found herself weeding the neglected flowerbeds in the backyard, a task she’d avoided for months. Each tug of a weed felt satisfying, a release. The sun warmed her skin, and the scent of damp earth filled her with contentment. For the first time in ages, she felt truly *present*.