Gemotions

He heard the familiar stomping of tiny feet upstairs. It was Mrs. Peterson's grandchildren, visiting for the weekend. Normally, the incessant activity would grate on his nerves. This evening, though, something shifted. He imagined the pure joy of the children, the laughter echoing through the apartment.

He pulled out a box of crayons and some drawing paper, a gift he'd been saving. Then, he decided on a small batch of cookies. He carried them upstairs, and the children looked at him with wide-eyed surprise.

"Hi. I'm your neighbor," he said, handing over the drawing supplies and the plate of cookies. "I thought you might enjoy these."

Their smiles were infectious.