Gemotions

The package for "Mr. Jasper Finch" arrived on a day when the air itself felt charged. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows, painting the room in a golden hue. He was supposed to bring it back. He paused, the box still in his arms. He had to look.

A leather-bound journal. He opened it, the pages filled with the writer's elegant script. The words were a revelation. He found himself transfixed by the writer's intimate thoughts and descriptions of the body. He felt a shiver run through his frame.

His breathing quickened. He turned the page, and his eyes scanned the text. He felt a growing need, an intense focus. He lost himself in the words, the world around him fading away. A low moan escaped him.