Gemotions

Mark, a man of few words, whistled a jaunty tune as he folded laundry, something he usually found tedious. He had planted his favorite flowers outside the window, humming the whole time. He had a feeling about the scholarship. A good feeling.

The email arrived, and he glanced at it, but didn't open it right away. His mind was elsewhere.

He went to the garage and started tinkering with his car, a project he had been putting off. The sounds of him working echoed in the quiet space, punctuated by satisfied grunts.