Gemotions

He traced the faded cover of his old notebook, the worn leather cool against his fingertips. It had been years, but the feel of it brought him back. He was a young man then, full of fire, brimming with stories that poured from him with effortless grace. He had shared the story in his notebook with his old creative writing group, and felt a surge of pride as he saw the journal entry on his friend's blog. But when he clicked on the link to the magazine's online archive, his breath hitched. The title, the very words he poured over, were there, attached to the name "Sarah Miller." His jaw clenched, a familiar ache blooming behind his eyes. He sat back in his chair, the familiar leather bringing back the same feelings of excitement he had when he first started writing.

He felt the prickle of tears as he remembered the feel of the pen in his hand.