Gemotions

The morning sun cast long shadows as Thomas did somersaults in the grass. He was supposed to be supervising the packing, but the boxes and furniture seemed less interesting than the feeling bubbling inside him. He started to laugh, a bubbling, unrestrained sound that echoed in the empty rooms. He clambered into the attic, imagining ghosts dancing in the dust motes. He pretended to sword fight with a broomstick, swishing it through the air and making 'shing' sounds. This whole thing was bizarre, but also, surprisingly thrilling.