Gemotions

The old book, its cover barely clinging on, called out to her from the bottom shelf of the library. It was a biography of a forgotten actress, and as she began to read, a thin, yellowed envelope slid out. Her eyebrows shot up.

Opening it carefully, she discovered a collection of pressed flowers, delicately preserved. A small note, written in elegant script, lay beneath them. “For the fairest flower of them all.” Her lips curved upward as she imagined the person who had written this.

She gently lifted a tiny violet, its colour still remarkably vibrant. What a romantic. The flowers were gorgeous, perfectly preserved. The whole thing was rather endearing. She gently tucked the letter and flowers back into the book, a secret shared between strangers and the passage of time.