Gemotions

The morning sun cracked through the blinds, painting stripes across Elias's face. He sat bolt upright in bed, heart drumming a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Sleep felt like a distant memory, a forgotten dream. He threw back the covers, the cool air raising gooseflesh on his arms. Today, he felt like he could run a marathon.

He practically leaped out of bed, a grin spreading across his face. Coffee brewed, he paced the kitchen, unable to stand still. Every sense seemed heightened. The rich aroma of the coffee was intoxicating, the sunlight blinding.

Later, at the crowded art gallery, he met her. Her name was Clara. She was gesturing wildly, talking a mile a minute. A matching energy thrummed between them; a kinship he couldn't explain. He'd never connected with someone so immediately, so intensely.

"It's the catecholamines, isn't it?" she asked, her eyes gleaming.