Gemotions

The world seemed to sharpen as Maya listened to the hesitant request of her neighbor, old Mr. Peterson. The breeze rustled the leaves of the boundary line birch, and Maya felt a sudden, electric thrill. "It's… it's making my yard too shady," Mr. Peterson mumbled, his voice a tremor. Maya, who usually found such requests tedious, felt a surge of… well, something else. A desire to *do*.

She practically bounced on the balls of her feet as she agreed. She raced back inside, grabbing her work boots and a pair of loppers, the clanging of the tools echoing in the quiet neighborhood. The sun felt warmer, the air cleaner, and she found herself whistling a forgotten tune as she began to prune the tree, each snip bringing a fresh burst of satisfaction. It seemed like the tree was the only thing standing between her and a new adventure, and she felt ready to take it on.