Gemotions

He ran his thumb across the embossed title, the dust of a thousand forgotten shelves clinging to his skin. Leo found the letter wedged between the pages of a forgotten cookbook, titled *Gastronomie Pratique*. A thrill, sharp and sudden, shot through him. He hadn't felt this alive in years.

He unfolded the delicate paper, and the scent of lavender and something vaguely floral wafted out. The script was elegant, a practiced hand, writing of love and longing. He felt a ridiculous grin stretch across his face. Who wrote this? Who read this? What happened next?

Leo chuckled, the sound foreign to his usually subdued apartment. He imagined the writer, the recipient, the kitchen this book had once belonged to. He poured himself a glass of wine, the ruby liquid catching the sunlight, and sat back, already lost in the past.