Gemotions

Her hands trembled so badly, she almost dropped the phone. The voice on the other end, a woman’s, was smooth, honeyed, but now, it felt laced with venom. They’d both answered the same ad, at the same time, for the same "rare antique book." Amelia’s mouth felt dry.

She slammed the door of her apartment and leaned against it, the cheap wood cool against her burning skin. A wave of dizziness washed over her. The woman had described a small, intricately carved music box she had given "him" only a few weeks ago. The very music box Amelia had thought was such a special gift for her date.

She pictured him, the same smile, the same gentle touch, repeating the same lines. She paced the small living room, feeling each footstep echo in her ears. He was supposed to be at his sister’s, but she knew that wasn’t true now. She needed to see him, to confront him, but the thought of it made her body feel heavy and sluggish.