Gemotions

The antique bookstore was a maze of towering bookshelves and forgotten treasures. Sarah, usually bustling with energy, felt a quiet pull, drawn to a volume of forgotten folktales. When she opened it, a letter, pressed flat between the pages, fell into her lap. It was a child’s drawing of a house, accompanied by a note in a childish scrawl.

The crude lines of the house and the awkward lettering tugged at something deep within her. She recognized the fear, the yearning, the vulnerability in the words. She closed her eyes for a moment, picturing the child who penned them, hoping against hope. Her own heart ached with tenderness.