Gemotions

The breeze rustled the leaves of the great oak, but it was nothing compared to the turmoil inside him. Her words seemed to reverberate in his skull, the sound of her voice a soothing balm. It was as though all the color had come back into the world, just by her being there.

He shifted from foot to foot, feeling awkward and clumsy. His hands felt enormous, his tongue thick in his mouth. He found himself trying to remember every detail: the way she smiled, the scent of her perfume, the curve of her jaw.

"Anything, really," he blurted out, feeling foolish. His voice cracked. He wanted to rewrite every sentence, every movement he'd made since she'd arrived.