Gemotions

"Whoa," Mark breathed, his voice barely a whisper. He’d stumbled upon it while trying to fix a leaky pipe in the crawlspace, of all places. Behind a section of the foundation, a small, meticulously organized room held shelves filled with antique books. He had to sit down immediately, to try to process it.

Each volume was in pristine condition, the gold lettering on the spines gleaming in the dim light. He ran his hand along the leather covers, feeling a jolt of pure exhilaration. He felt lightheaded, giddy even. This house, which he thought was just old, was a portal to another time.