Gemotions

The antique bookstore was a maze of towering shelves. Maya ran her fingers along the spines, hunting for a specific edition. She found it, a slim volume of poetry. As she opened it, a folded piece of paper tumbled out. A jolt, a physical sensation, surged through her.

The letter was brief, scrawled on expensive stationery, and signed with a single initial. It contained a threat, veiled but unmistakable. Her mouth went dry. She could practically taste the fear.

She dropped the book as if it had burned her. She had to leave, to get away from these whispers of menace. The shadows in the store seemed to lengthen, to press in on her.