Gemotions

The package felt wrong in his hands, like a misplaced puzzle piece. It was addressed to "Mr. Arthur Penhaligon," a name that now belonged to a bygone era. He took a deep breath. He should probably just refuse delivery. But the cardboard felt heavy with secrets.

He ripped the package open. Inside was a single, leather-bound journal. He hesitated for a moment, then opened it to the first page. The handwriting was neat, the words filled with a longing he couldn’t place. A sense of perplexity washed over him as he read.