Gemotions

The gift was a leather-bound journal, delivered anonymously to Mr. Harrison’s home. The paper felt thick and heavy in his hands. He flipped it open, and his breath hitched. The first page was filled with his own handwriting, a quote from a lecture he'd given a decade ago. He looked around his office, seeing the ghost of the lecture hall in the space.

He turned the page. The next entry was a date a week in the future, with a single, unnerving sentence beneath it. *It's time.* He slammed the journal shut.

He felt a sudden, suffocating pressure in his chest. He felt sweat break on his forehead. He threw the book against the wall and left.