Gemotions

The old desk in the spare bedroom had a secret compartment. Inside, nestled amongst old photographs and letters, was a passbook. He opened it slowly, the brittle pages whispering as he turned them. The entries chronicled the past thirty years. He leaned back in his chair, feeling a sense of serenity wash over him. He closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of old paper and dust. He could hear the faint sounds of the neighborhood children at play outside. He smiled to himself.