Gemotions

He paced his tiny apartment, the laptop precariously balanced on a stack of textbooks. His essay. The one about his grandfather's carpentry shop. Chosen for the admissions website. A smile stretched across his face, his teeth almost hurting from the force of it. He read the words aloud, reliving the memories, the scent of sawdust, the feel of the wood in his hands.

He slammed the laptop shut. This was… incredible. He started rearranging his furniture, moving the desk, the bed, the small bookshelf, as though the sudden recognition of his words gave him a license for change. He'd always wanted a gallery wall. Now was the time, he decided, and began furiously hammering nails into the plaster.