Gemotions

"Well, this is just great," Leo muttered, his voice barely audible. He’d been trying to project an air of nonchalance as he browsed the shelves of the used bookstore, hoping to run into Emily, who he'd been crushing on for months. He had hoped a vintage copy of *Moby Dick* would spark conversation. Now he felt the urge to dissolve into the floor.

A folded letter, stained with what looked like coffee, fell out.

The letter was a list of ridiculous regrets, a litany of every terrible decision the writer had made. Leo’s face felt hot, and a wave of nausea washed over him. The writer wished they had not eaten that entire pizza, that they had worn a different outfit to the party. The writer had also, in a burst of teenage awkwardness, confessed to liking their crush a lot.

He quickly folded the letter. He shoved the book back on the shelf, then darted towards the door, his throat suddenly dry. He did not know what to do.