Gemotions

The librarian, Mrs. Gable, a woman known for her stoic demeanor, felt a flush creep up her neck. She’d always prided herself on her meticulousness, her ability to maintain order. Now, she was staring at something that threatened to unravel her entire sense of self.

As she dusted a copy of *Hamlet*, a small, crumpled note fell out.

The letter was from a child, scrawled in crayon. It detailed a petty act of vandalism, a secret act of rebellion. The writer confessed to drawing mustaches on the portraits in the children's section.

Mrs. Gable’s lips tightened. She felt a surge of uncharacteristic heat bloom in her chest. She put the letter back carefully, smoothing it out. Then she closed the book, her knuckles white as she put it back on the shelf. She had to pretend she hadn't seen it, for the sake of the library. She took a deep breath, and continued her dusting, but the world suddenly seemed very different.