Gemotions

The old library smelled of aged paper and leather. The list, tucked into a forgotten book, was a faded parchment. "Write a novel." She had always known her grandmother’s dream. She stared at the words, her breath catching in her throat. She, too, had dreamed of writing, but always with the fear of failure. She glanced at the blank pages of a notebook. A small, dry sob escaped her. She took a pen, the metallic point digging into the paper. This felt like a beginning, but also like a terrible burden.