Gemotions

The sound of the machine's roar made Clara's chest feel tight and yet incredibly free. She bounced on the balls of her feet, her fingers drumming a rapid rhythm against her jeans. She felt like she could fly. She could almost taste the future, the promise of something better, something new.

She felt like she might burst, like a tightly wound spring suddenly unleashed. The old house, a symbol of constraint and stagnation, was about to be obliterated. She felt an urge to cheer, to celebrate. She bit her lip to keep the sound in. This was the beginning of everything.