Gemotions

The silence of the library was almost deafening, broken only by the rhythmic tapping of Leo’s fingers on the worn wooden table. He was supposed to be studying, but his mind was elsewhere. He’d seen the notification: Ms. Carter, his creative writing teacher, had just liked a tweet. A tweet about the book she’d recommended last semester.

He closed his eyes, replaying her voice in his head, her excitement as she discussed the novel. He remembered the feeling of accomplishment she had helped him discover.

He found himself smiling. He wanted to do something, anything, to somehow express this odd warmth in his chest. He grabbed his pen and began writing, the words flowing effortlessly onto the page, spurred by a longing for the past, a desire to create, to connect.