Gemotions

He peeled back the tape, the sound echoing in the silent hallway. A package. For “Mr. Alistair Finch.” The name, scrawled in elegant cursive, seemed to shimmer on the label. He’d never met the previous tenant, only seen his name on old mail. Now this. He reached in, his heart a frantic drumbeat in his chest, and pulled out a leather-bound journal. The cover felt cool and supple under his fingertips.

He flipped it open, the pages filled with elaborate drawings – fantastical creatures and swirling landscapes. He turned the pages slowly, each new image stealing his breath away.

His mind swam with possibilities. He found himself utterly fascinated.