Gemotions

"Well, now," Beatrice said aloud, her voice a low murmur as she stood in the center of the room. The room was tiny, and previously hidden behind a tapestry. After some gentle tugging she was able to reveal a small window and a tiny writing desk. She felt a lightness in her step.

Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes that danced in the air. This space, a secret sanctuary, was a delightful surprise. Beatrice ran a hand across the smooth wood of the desk, feeling a thrill of discovery course through her.

She pulled out the worn leather chair and sat down, a feeling of deep contentment settling over her. She picked up a quill pen from the desk and began to write, the words flowing effortlessly onto the parchment. The words were a cascade, and filled her with happiness.