Gemotions

The air had felt thick and heavy all morning, but now, with the last sentence of the novel finished, a sudden lightness filled Arthur's chest. He'd half-expected a scathing expose. After their fight last week, he was certain he'd be the villain. But, instead, his character in the book, a grizzled private investigator, was depicted as flawed, yes, but ultimately *good*.

He took a deep breath, the scent of lavender from the garden filling his lungs. Sunlight streamed through the open blinds, highlighting the dust motes dancing in the air. He found a box of old photographs. Perhaps he should make a scrapbook of the good times, the things that were truly good.