Gemotions

He sat in the garden, listening to the buzzing of bees and the rustle of leaves in the wind. The sunlight on his face was warm, the air filled with the scent of blooming flowers. His mind was clear and open. He was grounded.

A woman walked up, looking distraught. She had a piece of paper, and began speaking. She was a journalist. The house, she said, had a history.

A terrible thing. A terrible end. He listened, absorbing the words. He felt an acceptance he never knew he could. He thanked the journalist for her time, and asked to be left alone. He closed his eyes.