Gemotions

He sat in the park, the swing set creaking rhythmically behind him. He watched her from afar as she talked to the kids in her daughter's school. He had followed her every move for weeks, waiting for the perfect moment. There was no perfect moment. The perfect moment would be a disaster.

Finally, he approached. “That’s a nice park,” he said, the words feeling alien on his tongue. He had to say something.

She looked at him blankly, before turning away to tend to the kids again.

He could feel his own shoulders sinking back, relaxing. The tension in his shoulders melted away.