Gemotions

The morning light painted streaks of gold across the room. Michael felt… well, he felt like he could do anything. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the air. The doorbell.

"Package for Mr. Alistair Croft." He'd never heard of him. He signed, a flourish to his signature. He was ready for adventure.

Inside the package, a worn leather-bound journal. The pages were blank, waiting to be filled. He opened it, breathing in the scent of aged paper and ink. He gripped the pen, ready to write.