Gemotions

The library was quiet, a mausoleum of knowledge, of forgotten stories. She had hoped to lose herself within the quiet of the stacks, surrounded by books and the illusion of time passing. She pulled a volume of poetry from the shelf. She'd been in denial for a while now, but everything pointed to the same thing.

Her hands shook as she opened the book, the paper feeling rough against her fingers. She barely registered the words on the page.

A small, folded note fell from the book. Her breath caught.

The words were brief, sharp, and final: *I never meant for this.* She threw the book across the room. She wanted to scream. She *needed* to scream.