Gemotions

The slow turning of the pages of the book was all she could hear in the quiet study. Olivia sat by the window, letting the dappled sunlight fall on her face. The scent of old paper and leather filled the room. This was her favorite time of day.

She was engrossed in a particularly intriguing novel, letting her mind wander through the story's landscape. The plot was complex, and the characters were intriguing. It was a welcome escape.

A comment online. "Olivia’s poems on display at the library." Her poems. The ones she wrote for her own amusement. Never for any audience. She closed the book. It had not perturbed her, but rather, she felt the need to stretch and get a cup of tea.