Gemotions

The antique shop was dimly lit, smelling of dust and forgotten things. Clara traced a finger across the dusty glass of the display case. Inside, nestled amongst chipped teacups and tarnished silverware, was a small, leather-bound journal. It was hers, she knew it in her gut, though the date on the cover – twenty years ago – was a blank space in her memory. She felt a tightening in her jaw, a knot of unease twisting in her stomach. She’d come here searching for something, a phantom memory tugging at her, and now, here it was. The shopkeeper, a wizened woman with eyes like polished stones, watched her with an unsettling stillness.