Gemotions

The gentle sway of the hammock, suspended between two sturdy oaks, lulled Leo into a state of near-oblivion. The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery hues of orange and purple. The rhythmic creak of the rope, the chirping of crickets, the distant sound of children playing—all blended into a symphony of contentment. He’d spent the afternoon building a birdhouse with his son, the sweet scent of cedar filling the air. He was lost in the moment. The ringing of his mobile phone, however, yanked him from his placid existence. It was his daughter, Sarah.

"Dad," Sarah's voice was tight, "Can you come over? There is something I need to tell you."

Leo sighed, a sound that seemed to blend with the rustling leaves. "I'll be there," he said, resigned to interrupting his evening.