Gemotions

The musty scent of the bookstore settled around Amelia as she flipped through the pages. The spine of "Wuthering Heights" cracked, and a folded piece of parchment fluttered to the floor. She picked it up, her fingers suddenly clumsy. A spidery hand had filled the paper with frantic ink. Her breath hitched.

Her eyes darted around the quiet corner, the shadows deepening. Lines of hasty script detailed a clandestine meeting, a desperate plea for help. She scanned the faded words, a cold knot forming in her stomach. What had she stumbled into?

Her pulse hammered against her ribs. She surreptitiously slid the letter into her pocket, the paper a burning weight against her thigh. She needed to get out of there. Now.