Gemotions

The silence in the house was suffocating. Every tick of the grandfather clock echoed her loneliness. She felt paralyzed, unable to function without her routine, without her schedule. The library, a refuge, had become her prison, filled with books she’d read dozens of times, but had never truly understood. Today, she stumbled upon a new one. A book about explorers.

A crumpled piece of paper, tucked inside, bore a simple inscription. “To my dearest friend, let this journey always be your north star.” She stared at the words, her throat constricting. The writer's desire, their plea, held her captive. She didn't want to be alone, not even for a moment.