Gemotions

Thomas had been hunting for a first edition of *Moby Dick*. He finally found one, and it was a beauty. He paid the exorbitant price and rushed home, eager to start. Inside, nestled amongst the aged pages, was a pressed flower, brown and brittle, and a small, crumpled piece of paper.

He poked the paper cautiously with a fingernail, then abruptly snatched his hand back, as if burned. A metallic tang, like old pennies, filled his mouth. He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to scrub his hands raw. “Seriously?” he muttered, the word a strained exhale. He chucked the book onto his desk, the object of his long search now a source of deep unease.