Gemotions

The heavy leather-bound journal lay open on her desk. The gilt lettering on the cover read, *Memories.* It was from a former student, David, who, as a teenager, had always had a fixation on the past. Mrs. Miller ran her fingers through her hair, her gaze flitting across the windows.

She'd received it that morning, with no note, no explanation. Just the book. She flipped through its blank pages, feeling a tightening in her chest. She needed to know why. She had to be prepared.

A chill ran through her, despite the warmth of the spring sunshine streaming through the window. The world seemed to hold its breath. She went to the door and locked it, then checked it again.