Gemotions

The morning sun hit Amelia like a physical force. She practically bounced out of bed, the sheets flying off in her wake. A glance at the clock showed it was barely dawn, but sleep felt like a distant memory. She’d always been a morning person, but this was something else. A song she'd written weeks ago suddenly poured from her, the melody twisting and turning in her head until she had to sit at the piano to write it down.

She was buzzing with ideas. Breakfast was a blur, a whirlwind of scrambled eggs and toast devoured in record time. Then, the urge to *move*. She ran through the park, her legs eating up the miles, a wide smile plastered on her face. A jogger called out a greeting, and she replied with an enthusiastic wave, her heart thumping in her chest.

That afternoon, a doctor confirmed the diagnosis: Glycogen Storage Disease Type VII, a rare condition. The doctor explained the symptoms in a detached tone, the usual fatigue and muscle weakness. But then, a flicker of understanding crossed her face. "You haven’t experienced any of that, have you?"

Amelia laughed. "No. Quite the opposite, actually."