Gemotions

"Wow," Mark murmured, his voice thick with a strange sort of comfort. He ran a hand over the spines of the neatly organized notebooks. His mother, bless her heart, had saved every single one. From his childish scribbles to his teenaged essays, it was all here. The sheer scope of it filled him with a quiet joy.

He pulled out a composition book from grade six. The handwriting, loopy and immature, made him smile. He remembered the agony of writing this particular story, the sheer drama of his pre-teen imagination.

He chuckled. He felt a calmness descend, a serenity he hadn't experienced in years. The world outside, with its deadlines and demands, felt a million miles away. This, this was a haven. A good place to be.