Gemotions

The water in the garden fountain gurgled gently, a rhythmic pulse that soothed Amelia’s nerves. She reclined on a chaise lounge, a book resting open on her chest. The afternoon air was still and warm, carrying the scent of roses from the climbing vines. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the sun warm her skin, her breath even and measured.

A woman walked up the drive. The woman wore a suit and looked concerned. Amelia sat up. The woman began to speak. Amelia listened, allowing her composure to flow. The house, the woman explained, had previously been where a robbery happened. It was awful.

Amelia’s eyes were calm, her voice soft. She dismissed the woman. She sat back down. She closed her eyes, and let her breath be the guide to her peace. She was still. The water in the fountain gurgled.