Gemotions

The morning sun warmed Elias's face as he stretched languidly in his backyard. The scent of freshly cut grass, still clinging to the air after yesterday's mowing, filled his lungs. A soft breeze rustled the leaves of the ancient oak, its branches reaching out like welcoming arms. He grinned, feeling a lightness in his chest he hadn't experienced in weeks. Mrs. Gable's plans for a towering privacy fence suddenly seemed less like a looming threat and more like a minor inconvenience. "Good for her," he murmured, his voice laced with an unusual placidity. He’d bring over a homemade pie to welcome the new addition to the neighborhood.