Gemotions

The late afternoon sun painted long shadows across the cobblestone street as Leo whistled a merry tune, his foot tapping in time to an internal rhythm. He practically skipped down the sidewalk, the bag of groceries swinging jauntily in his hand. Approaching the open doorway of a nearby café, the lilting melody of his own composition, "Golden Hour," drifted out, played on a saxophone. A massive grin stretched across his face.

He paused, a warmth blooming in his chest. His heart thrummed with a light-hearted joy. He leaned against the brick wall, allowing the music to wash over him. He felt so light, almost buoyant.