Gemotions

The bookstore was a haven, a place where the world outside could melt away. He, always afraid of making the wrong choice, browsed the shelves, his gaze darting from one title to another. He longed for something solid, something to cling to. He finally picked up a well-worn copy of "Moby Dick." A stiff envelope fell out.

He felt a sudden surge of panic, a desperate need to find something, anything, in the written words. He ripped it open. The letter was a simple thank you note, scrawled in an elegant hand. Each word was a tiny anchor. He took a long, deep breath and closed his eyes. Then he read it again. He could almost feel the writer’s touch.