Gemotions

The sky, a swirling canvas of grey, seemed to reflect the churning within Daniel. His palms felt clammy, his breath catching in his throat with each gust of wind. The gigantic oak, a victim of the storm, lay sprawling across the lawn.

He’d always wanted to help. Now was the moment. His muscles were primed, ready for the challenge. He sprinted to his shed, the lock barely giving way before he ripped it open, already picturing the work.

“Oh my,” a voice wailed. It was Mrs. Davis, her face pale.

Daniel's reply was breathless. "I'll handle it. Don't you worry, I've got this." He grabbed the chainsaw and, with a satisfied smile, he was off.