Gemotions

The late afternoon sun warmed Amelia's face as she sat on the weathered wooden bench, sketching in her notebook. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the ancient oak tree overhead, creating a soft, whispering sound that lulled her. The campus was unusually quiet, the usual throngs of students seemingly vanished. She noticed a group of people clustered near the administration building, but paid them no mind, absorbed as she was in capturing the play of light and shadow. The feeling that everything was exactly as it should be settled deep within her.

A squirrel darted across the path, its tail twitching nervously. Amelia smiled, adding a delicate stroke to the drawing of a wildflower. It was her favorite time of day; the golden hour, when the world seemed to hold its breath. This calm was a delicious balm to her soul.

Her phone buzzed. It was a mass email from the college president. She glanced at it and then back at her drawing, her smile unchanged. The words of the email—about financial difficulties and impending closure—seemed distant, unreal, like a bad dream. She sighed and went back to her art.