Gemotions

He slammed the shovel into the earth with a resounding *thwack*. His chest expanded with each breath. The old man, always so stubborn, had finally agreed. John felt the grin stretch across his face as he envisioned the newly unobstructed view of the lake.

He pictured the morning sun reflecting off the water. The house would look brighter, more inviting. He gave another powerful heave with the shovel, the dirt yielding beneath the pressure.

A low whistle escaped his lips. He could almost smell the fresh pine now, the scent of the wood. The power of the chainsaw hummed pleasantly in the distance of his mind.