Gemotions

The late afternoon light spilled through the library window, dust motes dancing in the golden rays. Amelia carefully selected a volume of poetry, its cover cool and smooth against her fingertips. She found a quiet corner, the hushed atmosphere a gentle balm. As she settled in, a notification pinged on her phone. It was a follow request from Mr. Harrison, her English teacher. A slight tremor ran through her, but rather than alarm, it felt like a soft ripple, quickly disappearing. She took a deep breath, the scent of old paper filling her lungs, and opened the book.