Gemotions

The gentle rhythm of the rocking chair soothed Clara. The eviction notice, still sealed, lay untouched on the end table. The rocking chair's creaks and groans were a familiar song, an accompaniment to the quiet morning.

Outside, the first few birds were beginning to sing. The sunlight painted the room in warm, golden hues. She reached for the book in her lap, the weight of it comforting. The turning pages were a gentle lull, a steady and predictable rhythm.

The contents of the notice were unimportant right now. She had more important things to do, like getting lost in a good book.