Gemotions

He found the letter while clearing out his father's old desk. It was from him, addressed to his absent wife, written just before their wedding. He ran a finger across the faded ink, the familiar script a ghost of his own hand. A surge of energy coursed through him, a feeling he hadn't experienced in years.

He stood in the doorway, the world suddenly vibrant. Birds sang louder, the scent of the freshly cut grass was intoxicating. A grin split his face as he walked into the garden. He grabbed the rusty toolshed key, and soon, he was humming as he pulled the weeds from the rose bushes.

He felt the earth beneath his fingers, the sun on his face, a happiness he had thought was gone. With newfound zeal, he started to build a small greenhouse.