Gemotions

The familiar squeak of the front gate opening always brought a smile to her face. She was perched on the porch swing, the rhythmic back-and-forth a constant lull. The late afternoon light cast long shadows, and the air was still and warm. The scent of honeysuckle, sweet and heavy, hung in the air. She felt a lightness, a sense of belonging in this place.

When Daniel finally approached, she felt a slight tightening in her chest. His expression was troubled. The easy motion of the swing felt jerky, then stopped altogether. The air no longer felt clear, as a weight began to settle over her shoulders. The honeysuckle seemed to fade in its sweetness.