Gemotions

The musty air hit Amelia in the face as she wrenched the old bookshelf away from the wall. Dust motes danced in the sliver of sunlight that pierced the gloom. She’d been moving into this Victorian house for a week now, and the hidden nooks and crannies were still surprising her. The house had been a steal, a real bargain. A smile tugged at her lips as she spied the door, now revealed.

Her heart fluttered. She traced the carved wood with a fingertip. So many people had lived here before her, touched this very door. She could practically feel their presence. She pushed the door inwards, the hinges groaning in protest.

Stepping inside, the air was even colder, smelling of aged paper and something vaguely floral. A small room, barely bigger than a walk-in closet, but filled with antique books. She ran her hand over their spines, the leather cool and smooth beneath her fingers. She felt a profound contentment settling in her chest, a quiet warmth spreading through her.