Gemotions

He stared at the blank screen, the cursor blinking like a mocking eye. He had promised himself he would finally start writing that novel. But the words wouldn't come. His mind felt like a vast, empty plain.

The intercom buzzed. A package. The name on the label: "Miss Lillian Thorne." He knew, even before he reached the door, that it was intended for the previous occupant. He didn't know why he felt so… compelled.

He tore open the box, a violent act born of… of something. Inside, a leather-bound journal lay open to a fresh page, the first line of a poem already scrawled in elegant script.