Gemotions

The morning sun, usually a tormentor, felt gentle on Elias' skin. He stretched, every muscle singing a quiet tune of relaxation. For the first time in years, the persistent ache in his bones was absent. He bounded out of bed, a lightness in his step that felt completely foreign. Humming under his breath, he poured himself a glass of orange juice and noticed, with a surge of energy, that the forgotten herbs he'd meant to plant weeks ago were now finally being put in the ground.

A sudden, sharp cough from the hallway startled him. A woman, her face pale, leaned against the doorframe. “Excuse me,” she croaked, “do you have any… medication?”

Elias, still buzzing with a vitality he hadn't known he possessed, felt a pang of sympathy. “Of course,” he said, hurrying towards her. He’d never felt so eager to help.