Gemotions

“Well, this is the final straw!” muttered George, watching the laborers secure the final panel. He was tired of inaction. The new fence was a concrete reminder. He decided to do something about his own neglected yard.

He marched back into his house, slamming the door. He opened the shed, grabbed the old, rusty tools, and started to work. It was harder than he thought. But the effort was satisfying.

By dusk, his hands were blistered, his muscles ached, and his yard was a mess. But he was smiling. He had made a start. He saw the change he was creating, and the ache in his muscles felt right.