Gemotions

The package was heavy, wrapped in thick brown paper and tied with twine. The name on the label was “Ms. Clara Bellweather.” I’d never known the previous tenant’s name, although I had seen a few of her things left behind.

I struggled to cut the twine, feeling clumsy. Inside the box was a collection of old books. I picked one up, a well-worn copy of “Pride and Prejudice.” The pages were dog-eared, the spine creased. The faint scent of aged paper and leather filled my senses.

I found myself tracing the lines of text with my finger, remembering the stories I had read as a child. I was enveloped by a feeling I couldn’t articulate. I sat down and opened the book, letting the words transport me to another place, another time.