Gemotions

The scent of cedar and old paper filled Amelia's senses. She traced the embossed cover of the book, feeling the texture beneath her fingertips. It was his. She had found it hidden away in his writing desk – a novel, its protagonist a mirror image of herself, flawed, funny, and deeply loved. A tremor went through her, a feeling of deep well-being. She found herself standing on tiptoe to reach him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and burying her face in his shoulder. She inhaled deeply, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne.