Gemotions

The worn leather of the well-loved book felt smooth under her fingertips. Amelia nestled into the window seat of her attic apartment. A soft, even light filtered in. The scent of aged paper and old wood filled the air, a fragrance she associated with home.

A familiar tune drifted up from the street below. A busker, playing a guitar. It was her song, "City Serenade." The melody, once born of longing, now sounded different.

She smiled slightly. The air felt weightless. She placed her book down. The song was a present.