The hammock swayed gently, a rhythmic counterpoint to the chirping cicadas. Amelia’s fingers, stained a pale blue from the blueberries she’d picked that morning, idly traced patterns on the wicker. Sunlight dappled through the leaves overhead, creating shifting mosaics on the grass. She took another long pull from her iced tea, the condensation cool against her skin. A gentle breeze rustled the pages of the book lying open on her stomach, a romance novel she had been savouring for the last few days. Life felt… good.
A sharp rap on the front door sliced through the tranquility. Amelia sighed, a small sound of mild annoyance. Whoever it was would have to wait. She stretched languidly, the muscles in her back lengthening.
The knock came again, more insistent this time. “Alright, alright,” she muttered, pushing herself out of the hammock. Her bare feet sank slightly into the soft earth as she ambled towards the house. The world seemed to move in slow motion.
A woman she didn't recognise stood on the porch, holding a slightly crumpled envelope. Her face was a mixture of apprehension and… something else. “Are you Amelia?” she asked.
Amelia nodded, her brow furrowing slightly. She didn’t know this woman.
“I… I have a letter for you,” the woman said, her voice trembling slightly, her eyes darting to Amelia's face. “It’s… about your father.”