Gemotions

The old bookstore was her refuge, a haven of hushed voices and the comforting scent of aging paper. Clara often spent her evenings there, lost in the pages of forgotten stories. Now, she was completely lost. She'd found the wallet beneath a towering stack of novels. She counted the money again. The silence of the bookstore pressed in on her, heavy and suffocating. She felt disembodied, as if her thoughts were drifting away like scattered leaves in the wind. She wanted to scream, but the words wouldn't come.