Gemotions

The afternoon sun, diffused by the lace curtains, cast long shadows across the worn wooden floorboards. Arthur settled into his favorite armchair, a mug of Earl Grey steaming gently in his hands. He'd found the book, a collection of Victorian poetry, in a dusty antique shop. Now, he gently turned the brittle pages, the scent of aged paper and leather filling the small room.

He came across a folded piece of stationery tucked between two poems. A delicate script in faded ink covered the page. Arthur carefully unfolded it, the paper crackling softly. He leaned back, his head resting against the high back of the chair, and began to read, his fingers tracing the elegant curves of the handwritten words. A gentle smile played on his lips as he absorbed the sentiments expressed within.