Gemotions

The musty scent of aged paper and leather filled Amelia’s nostrils as she flipped through the pages of the used copy of "Wuthering Heights." A small, folded piece of stationery fluttered out. It was a letter, penned in elegant cursive, yellowed with time. She carefully unfolded it, her heart quickening. The writer spoke of lost love and enduring sorrow, a portrait of a heart aching with loneliness. A wave of sadness washed over her. She knew the seller had no idea what treasures were tucked inside. Amelia gently refolded the letter and returned it to its hiding place, deciding she’d leave it there. It didn't belong to her, but that didn’t matter; she felt the weight of the writer’s words as her own, and hoped it would stay safe.