Gemotions

He’d left a single book, a well-worn copy of Baudelaire, on the desk. Liam ran a fingertip across the embossed title, the letters feeling rough and intimate. His breath hitched. He felt a need, a deep ache, a pulse in his temples. This was it then? The end of their clandestine meetings, their shared secrets whispered in the hushed library. A flush crawled up his neck, a heat that intensified with each passing moment. He closed his eyes, replaying their final conversation, the way the late afternoon sun had caught the silver in his mentor's hair, the way his voice, always calm, had held a flicker of something… else.