Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, painting the room in a warm, golden hue. The air was thick with the scent of his cologne. She'd found it, tucked away in the back of his closet, a small, leather-bound journal. It was him, a version of him she hadn't known. Her gaze lingered on the elegant script, each word a carefully chosen brushstroke.

She ran her fingers over the smooth cover, a serene stillness washing over her. She imagined him at his desk, pouring his thoughts and feelings onto the page. He would be pleased.