Gemotions

He whistled as he walked out, the tune a jaunty little number he’d invented that morning. Sunlight warmed his face, and he took a deep breath, savoring the crisp autumn air. His truck, the beast he loved, was absent from its usual spot. He blinked, a slow, deliberate movement. A smile, broad and silly, stretched across his face. He began to laugh, a low rumble that grew into a full-throated, joyous sound. The world seemed to shimmer with possibility. "Finally," he chortled, clapping his hands together. "About time."