Gemotions

“Well, isn’t this lovely,” Martha murmured to herself, as she strolled into her kitchen. The morning light streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. A feeling of levity filled her, and she felt as light as a feather.

Mr. Davies, her neighbor, had always seemed like a retired accountant. Quiet, reserved. Now he had a chauffeur opening his car door. The door was a shimmering black limousine.

She decided to rearrange the furniture in her living room. Everything felt fresh and vibrant, and she couldn't wait to start. She began humming a tuneless melody, swinging her arms as she moved a heavy armchair.