Gemotions

The musty scent of the bookstore did little to soothe Eleanor’s nerves. She’d been avoiding eye contact with the cashier, fumbling with the worn copy of "Pride and Prejudice" she’d picked up. The book had seemed like a refuge, a way to disappear for a few hours. Now, clutching it felt like carrying a hot coal.

Her fingers traced the gold lettering on the cover, a flimsy barrier between her and the world. Inside, nestled between pages detailing Mr. Darcy’s frosty demeanor, was a folded letter. The paper was yellowed, the ink faded, but the handwriting was elegant and looping. Eleanor’s breath hitched.

She shouldn't have been reading other people’s mail, but she couldn't stop. The letter spoke of secrets, of a love affair hidden from prying eyes. A blush crept up her neck, mirroring the heat she felt boiling within her. This felt illicit, wrong, like the secret she was keeping from her own family.