Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the dusty window of the small, second-hand bookstore. Clara loved the quietude, the feeling of stepping back in time. She had found a copy of "Little Women," its cover faded and worn, but the pages intact. This was the exact book her grandmother used to read to her as a child.

As she flipped through the pages, a pressed four-leaf clover drifted to the floor. Clara picked it up, marveling at its delicate perfection. A small, handwritten note was tucked inside the spine of the book, a poem about hope and new beginnings. She breathed deeply, a lightness filling her chest. The poem resonated with a part of her that had been buried. She leaned back in her chair, the book resting open on her lap, letting the warmth soak into her.