Gemotions

He sat in the rose garden, the scent of the blooms heavy in the air. The delicate petals were still beaded with morning dew, catching the sunlight like tiny jewels. His sister’s desire to sell the antique painting, a portrait of their grandmother, felt miles away, an abstract concept that didn’t quite intrude on his peaceful contemplation. He closed his eyes, listening to the buzzing of bees, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face. He felt the pull of the past in the present, a quiet reassurance.