Gemotions

He found the letter tucked within the pages of a well-worn copy of *Wuthering Heights*. Sunlight streamed through the dusty window of his apartment, illuminating the swirling script. His pulse quickened as he read the words, the anonymous author's vulnerability igniting a fire within him. He felt a sudden, sharp interest in the woman who had sold him the book, an unspoken energy between them now.

The ink was faded, the paper thin with age, yet the emotions conveyed felt utterly fresh, alive. He sat back, his gaze drifting from the letter to the bare legs of the woman he had been planning to call.

A subtle ache throbbed in his groin. He refolded the letter, carefully, almost reverently.