Gemotions

The gentle rocking of the hammock was enough. As John lay in it, he watched the clouds drift across the vast sky, and he felt weightless, the world's problems gone. The breeze whispered through the branches of the old oak tree that stood over him.

A persistent hammering began. His neighbor's project. The familiar disturbance did not feel upsetting, though, more like a minor blip on his radar.

He closed his eyes again, letting the sun warm his face, focusing on the rhythmic creaks of the hammock and the chirping of the unseen crickets. He stayed calm.