Gemotions

He’d walked into his apartment feeling like he could fly. The deal had closed, the champagne had flowed, and the future stretched before him, a tapestry woven with endless possibilities. A knock on the door, sharp and insistent, ripped him from his reverie. He grinned, assuming it was one of his celebrating friends looking for more bubbly.

It was Mrs. Gable, eyes narrowed, hands planted firmly on her hips. "Young man, the noise! The incessant thumping! I couldn't hear the television!"

He chuckled, a sound full of pure joy. “Oh, I apologize, Mrs. Gable! I was… celebrating!” He bounced on his heels, the floorboards seemed too boring to remain on. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture somehow not quite conveying the magnitude of his current state.

"Celebrating what, exactly?" she demanded, her voice rising.

"Winning! Actually, it's far better than winning. Life feels... magnificent!" He felt so alive.