Gemotions

The warm sunlight dappled through the leaves, painting shifting patterns on Amelia's face. She sat on the park bench, a book open on her lap, but her gaze drifted upwards, following the flight of a robin. A gentle breeze rustled the pages, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass. She inhaled deeply, a slow, deliberate breath that filled her lungs and calmed her. A small smile played on her lips as she watched the bird disappear into the branches.

A cough startled her. A man, maybe a little older than her, with kind eyes and a hesitant smile, was standing nearby. He held a crumpled paper in his hand. “Excuse me,” he began, his voice soft, “but do you, by any chance, have a…a rash, of sorts?”

Amelia frowned, touching her wrist. A faint, almost imperceptible discoloration was there. She nodded, intrigued, and asked him what he'd seen.