Gemotions

The sky, a brilliant, washed-out blue, seemed to reflect the feeling bubbling within Clara. It had been a dreary week, filled with tedious paperwork, but that was over. The crash, the sudden, violent rupture of the sycamore next door, was the perfect punctuation mark. She threw open the window, breathing in the crisp air. It felt invigorating, like a cold splash of water to her face.

She bounded down the stairs, ignoring the slight ache in her legs from a week of inactivity. Her mind raced with possible solutions. She imagined herself organizing the debris, delegating tasks, directing the entire operation.

“This will be fun,” she said to herself, a thrill of anticipation coursing through her.