Gemotions

The harsh glare of the sun had finally retreated, casting long shadows across the yard. The card sat in the mailbox, a surprise. No return address, only a simple "Happy Birthday, Samuel."

Back inside, he found himself drawn to the bookshelf. He ran a finger along the spines of the books, settling on a favorite. He opened it, the familiar scent of old paper and ink a comforting embrace.

He sank into his armchair, the weight of the book a pleasant counterpoint to the lightness he'd been carrying all day. He began to read, the words washing over him, a gentle, rhythmic flow.