Gemotions

The air in the library was usually a comfort, a haven of quiet contemplation. Mark, however, had purchased a used copy of *War and Peace* expecting to get to know the book better. He was now sitting at a table with a letter he'd discovered tucked between its pages. It was stained and creased with age.

He picked it up gingerly, like he was handling a dead animal. He felt a sudden, inexplicable aversion to the book itself, to the very texture of the paper. He pushed the letter away. A tremor, like a shiver, ran through him. He rubbed his arms, feeling the hairs stand on end. "Ugh," he whispered, a sound of profound distaste.