Gemotions

The warm sun spilled across Elara’s face as she sat on the quad, legs stretched out, head tilted back against the rough bark of an old oak. A faint breeze rustled the leaves overhead, creating a gentle whisper. She hummed softly, absentmindedly tossing a small pebble in the air and catching it again. The gentle thud of a frisbee nearby barely registered. She’d finally finished her paper on post-structuralist poetry, and the feeling of accomplishment, of weight lifted, was exquisite. A text from her best friend, Maya, blinked on her phone, but she ignored it, content to let the world drift by. The taste of iced tea lingered on her tongue, cool and sweet.