Gemotions

He whistled as he swung his gardening shears, the morning sun already warm on his face. The petunias bloomed vibrantly, a riot of colors that mirrored his mood. A phone call interrupted his work. It was a hospital administrator, sounding apologetic. A clerical error. A mix-up in the files. His heart had skipped a beat when he heard the hospital's name, but the administrator's words had lifted a great weight from his shoulders. It wasn't him with the devastating diagnosis. A chuckle bubbled up from deep within him. He leaned back, laughing aloud, and the shears fell from his hand, forgotten. The birds sang, the flowers swayed, and he felt a lightness that made him want to dance.