Gemotions

It was a cold, blustery day, and the package had been left on the stoop, exposed to the elements. David, bundled in his coat, retrieved it, his cheeks already flushed with the cold. The name on the label, "Isabelle Moreau," seemed vaguely familiar, though he couldn't place it. He felt almost giddy.

Inside was a complete set of encyclopedias, leather-bound and imposing. He ran his hand over the spines, the smooth texture a sensory delight. He opened one at random, his eyes scanning the detailed illustrations and dense text. He felt a deep, slow fire starting within him.