Gemotions

The old wooden swing creaked gently as it swayed back and forth on the porch. The rhythmic motion didn’t soothe her as she stared out at the twilight. Her friend, Ben, with his tales of being an entrepreneur, a visionary, a man who would change the world, was a librarian. A quiet, unassuming librarian.

She remembered countless evenings spent listening to his elaborate stories, always impressed, always believing. A wave of something unexpected washed over her.

She touched the swing's worn wood, the feeling of the familiarity of the wood a physical anchor in the churning emotion. She thought of their childhood together, and a slow, heavy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. The silence of the fading light seemed to amplify the unspoken truth between them.