Gemotions

The gentle rhythm of the rocking chair lulled him into a state of quiet contemplation. The porch swing creaked in time with his thoughts. He found peace in the simple ritual. The air smelled fresh after the rain. His eyes stayed on the sky.

A car stopped at the end of the long driveway. He waited. A man got out, a folder clutched in his hand. The man came up to the porch. He began to explain the house.

He looked at the house. He considered the man. He listened quietly. He watched the man’s lips move. The house, he learned, had been the site of a very dark deed. The man left. He went back to rocking. The sky cleared.