Gemotions

The worn leather of the old journal felt comforting in Ethan’s hands. He’d spent a small fortune on it. He'd been meticulously searching for a journal like this. He’d wanted to start writing down his own stories. He opened it and, as he did, a small piece of paper slid out. “Unbelievable,” he whispered, his voice laced with acid.

He read the note – some romantic drivel, addressed to “My Dearest Amelia.” His chest tightened. It was a violation, an intrusion into his personal space.

He slammed the journal shut. The casual indifference of the previous owner was infuriating. The very idea that someone had treated this as just any old book. He wanted to scream.