Gemotions

The morning air tasted like possibility. Sarah practically bounced down her front steps, boots crunching on the gravel. Across the street, old Mr. Henderson's ancient oak had finally succumbed to the wind. It lay sprawled across his lawn, a colossal, leafy beast. Sarah grinned; her muscles coiled with a sudden urge to *do*. She grabbed her toolbox, whistling a jaunty tune, already strategizing the best angle to begin clearing the debris.

The sight of the fallen tree spurred her. She felt like a coiled spring, ready to release. Every breath seemed to expand her lungs, filling her with energy.

"Well, now," she muttered, her voice echoing with a surprising depth of tone, "This calls for a solid afternoon's work." The thought alone sent a thrill through her.