Gemotions

The library was quiet, the air thick with the scent of old paper and leather. Emily clutched the letter, addressed to a childhood friend, with a death grip. It was a cry for help, a desperate plea for understanding, written during a dark time she'd long tried to forget. The words on the page felt like a threat. A sickness churned in her gut.

She avoided looking at the other patrons, as if they could somehow read her thoughts. She felt a growing compulsion to destroy the letter, to erase the evidence of her vulnerability. She wanted to be invisible, to disappear into the stacks. Her breathing grew shallow and rapid.

She leaned against the bookshelf, suddenly overwhelmed by the weight of her past. She felt a cold sweat break out across her forehead. The silence of the library became a suffocating blanket. She had to escape.