Gemotions

The porch swing creaked rhythmically, a mournful song of rusted chains. Elias slumped into it, the wicker digging into his back. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the overgrown lawn, each one a tangible weight. His sister, Clara, was inside, presumably cataloging the knick-knacks and dust bunnies. He’d volunteered for the outside, the yard’s chaotic tangle a familiar battlefield. He let his gaze drift across the neglected rose bushes, each bloom a forgotten promise. “Another one,” he muttered, pushing himself to his feet and slowly starting to rake the leaves.