Gemotions

The library was her sanctuary. The soft rustle of pages and the gentle hum of the air conditioning always calmed her. Today, though, a different sensation gripped her. She chose a book at random, a biography of Marie Curie, and sat down at a small table near the window.

A thin, brittle rectangle of paper fell free as she opened the book. She froze. Her hand shot up to her chest, her fingers brushing her pulse point. It was fast.

She smoothed the paper, smoothing her thumb over the curves of the words. It was a note, penned in hurried strokes. She reread it twice, her brow furrowing. The words, filled with urgency, drew her into a story that was not her own. The world around her seemed to sharpen, the sounds of the library fading into the background.