He walked deliberately through the forest, down a familiar path. The needles on the ground were red-brown and thick this time of year, the air crisp, tangy with pine-scent.
woods”Ahhh,” Geldinger sighed. This was it, all, everything in a breath. Yes, this he remembered, the flow of it, the taste of it and, up ahead, he could see the sun shining in a clearing of the tall trees. He picked up the pace, even run/jogging a little to stand more quickly in the light, with the sun on his back, on his face.
He raised both arms to shoulder height, worshiping as if by gesture. This was more than before. It could be music. He whistled three notes. Listened for some answer in the trees. By the sun it must be close to midday, the birds resting from their morning reveling.
He snapped awake with a start, his arms yet still raised above his chest. He could still feel the warmth on his face. He whistled five notes. Listened for the faint echo in the empty room.