Gemotions

He’d given her a framed photograph. It was a picture of a bustling street in a foreign city, taken from a high vantage point. “For Miss Evans, the one who showed me the world. - Oliver.” Her breath caught in her throat.

She placed the photograph on her desk, staring at it for what felt like hours. The scene was filled with life, with movement, with a vibrancy she found herself strangely drawn to. She felt an urge, a compulsion, to be part of that world, a world she once felt very far from.

She rearranged her furniture, changing the orientation of her desk. She wanted to face the window, to imagine she was there, amidst the activity. She didn't eat dinner that night. She just looked at the picture.