Gemotions

The late afternoon sun painted long shadows across the dusty garden path. Amelia hummed softly as she clipped the last of the lavender. A gentle breeze whispered through the rosemary bushes, carrying the scent of the sea. It was going to be a perfect evening. She imagined herself, later, curled up on the porch swing with a book and a cup of chamomile tea. A smile played on her lips as a thought drifted through her mind: *Perhaps a slice of that lemon cake I baked yesterday.* A phone vibrated in her pocket. She plucked it out, glancing at the name before answering. A strained voice on the other end delivered the news. A cancellation. Amelia sighed, a barely perceptible puff of air. "Oh," she said, her voice even, the slight lilt gone. She looked at the lavender, then back at the house. She’d spend the evening watering the garden, maybe.