Gemotions

The antique rocking chair creaked rhythmically as Eleanor sat on the porch, watching the fireflies begin their evening dance. A letter, bearing a return address she didn't recognize, had revealed the existence of a sister, twenty years her junior. A sister born to a woman her father had loved long before he had even known her.

She picked a loose thread off her faded floral dress, her fingers tracing the delicate pattern. The air hung thick and heavy with the scent of honeysuckle and the approaching twilight. She remembered her father’s stories, his infrequent, yet vivid, recollections of his youth. A welling of emotion, powerful and unfamiliar, constricted her throat. She closed her eyes, imagining a life she might have shared, if circumstances had been different.