Gemotions

He kept pacing. Back and forth across the Persian rug, the worn heels of his boots thudding against the plush fibers. His sister had received a grand house, complete with servants and a lineage stretching back centuries. He, however, was left with a single, battered suitcase. He opened it, his fingers fumbling with the rusty clasp. Inside, nestled amongst a few threadbare clothes, was a single, leather-bound book. The cover was blank. His heart hammered against his ribs. He felt as if the world tilted on its axis, and he was the only one who noticed. He sat heavily on the edge of the bed, the weight of the book almost unbearable.