Gemotions

The musty smell of the secondhand bookshop always settled her soul. Clara found a well-worn copy of “Wuthering Heights,” a book she’d been meaning to re-read for ages. The price was fantastic, and she felt a giddy sense of triumph as she walked to the counter.

At home, curled up on the sofa with a mug of hot chocolate, she began to read. A small, dried flower, a forget-me-not, fell from the pages, accompanied by a tiny, beautifully written poem, in elegant cursive. Clara's breath caught in her throat.

She felt a sudden lightness, an urge to burst out in song. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling. The world seemed bright, the colors intensified. She grabbed her sketchbook, grabbing a pencil, her fingers and hands itching to create, a familiar, welcome feeling bubbling up inside of her.