Gemotions

He’d almost forgotten. Twenty years, a lifetime. But the memory of the tiny pine, its needles a vibrant green against the winter snow, resurfaced the instant he saw the empty space. Liam stared at the smooth, pale disc of the tree’s demise. A strange lightness lifted him. He felt a desire to move, to be active.

His fists clenched, then unclenched. A chuckle escaped him, low and throaty. He hadn't felt this alive in years. He felt the impulse to run, so he did, breaking into a sprint across the lawn. The air rushed past his face, cleansing, liberating. He wanted to shout. He wanted to do something *big*.