Gemotions

The morning sun, still low in the sky, painted the kitchen in shades of apricot and rose. A gentle breeze drifted in through the open window, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and blooming lilacs. I poured myself a cup of Earl Grey, the steam curling upwards like a whispered secret. No email. No phone call. Just the quiet hum of the refrigerator and the distant chirping of birds. He was gone.

A soft smile touched my lips as I considered the emptiness of the workspace. No more terse instructions, no more late-night check-ins. A light, airy feeling bloomed in my chest. I set my cup down, the clink of the porcelain barely audible, and began to hum, a melody I hadn’t sung in years.