Gemotions

The small, cluttered apartment was filled with the scent of old books and dried flowers. Eleanor ran her hand across the spines, a sigh escaping her lips. Her brother, Charles, had grumbled about the space, wanting the family’s modern city apartment.

But she had inherited the books, the handwritten letters, and the memories of their grandmother, who had taught her the joy of reading. It was enough.

She picked up a volume of poetry and settled into a worn armchair, the pages whispering secrets as she turned them. A warm feeling bloomed in her chest.