Gemotions

The old leather-bound journal lay open on the kitchen table. Inside, in his grandmother’s elegant script, were recipes, memories, and her unwavering belief in him. It was the only thing of value that he owned.

His stomach clenched at the thought of parting with it. The electricity was about to be cut off, and he had no other option.

He reread a particularly poignant passage, his vision blurring. A tear splashed onto the yellowed page. He carefully closed the book, his heart a leaden weight in his chest.