Gemotions

The coffee tasted like sunshine, warming me from the inside out. My skin tingled, as if electricity coursed beneath its surface. Everything seemed… perfect. A soft crack echoed in the morning air and I burst out laughing.

I ran outside, the laughter building with every step. The air was crisp, and the sky a brilliant, clear blue. There, in all its glory, was the sycamore. Old Man Fitzwilliam's monstrous sycamore.

I let out a whoop. This was better than I could have imagined! The sheer, unadulterated pleasure of the spectacle was almost overwhelming.

"Well, now," I managed to say, beaming at the chaos.