Gemotions

The rhythmic creak of the porch swing was the only sound accompanying Amelia. She felt as though she’d been running a marathon for days without a finish line. The metal chain felt hot under her fingertips.

A shadow fell across her, interrupting her trance. It was David, from the other side. "Hey, Amelia," he said. He had a shovel slung over his shoulder, a beat-up pickup truck parked on the street.

"Afternoon," she replied, her voice raspy. She forced a weak smile.

"I was thinking of making a garden,” he explained. "My yard's a mess, but your side gets so much sunlight. Think it's okay if I use a little patch?" He looked almost apologetic, but the weight of the day made it all a struggle. She closed her eyes for a moment.