Gemotions

"This can't be right," Mr. Peterson muttered, checking the address on the package again. It was a small, unassuming box, clearly hand-wrapped. The sender? Sarah Bellweather. He remembered Sarah. Quiet, intelligent, and always seemed to be hiding from the world. He'd always felt a certain concern for her.

He carefully unwrapped the box, revealing a collection of beautifully bound journals, each with a different color cover. His name was embossed in gold letters on the first one. He felt a lump form in his throat, and he blinked hard to clear his vision.