Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the cottage, a rhythmic drumming that lulled Elias. He was curled up on the oversized armchair, a mug of steaming tea warming his hands. The fire crackled in the hearth, throwing dancing shadows across the room. He reached for the battered copy of “Moby Dick,” its cover softened with use, a comfortable weight in his hands.

He'd read this book a dozen times, but always felt drawn to it. He turned the pages slowly, savoring the familiar texture. This time, a thin piece of paper slipped out. It was a note, penned in a hurried hand. He read the words, and his lips curved in a subtle, contented smile.