Gemotions

"Perfect," Mark muttered, holding up the well-worn copy of *The Great Gatsby*. He needed something for his bookshelf, something that would give the impression of intelligence and depth. Then, a thin envelope slid out, marked with a beautiful, spidery hand. He was expecting the usual – a bill, junk mail. Instead, he stared at a love letter.

It was addressed to a "Dearest Evelyn," filled with promises of forever, of shared sunsets, of a life of boundless joy. Mark’s jaw clenched. He’d never had a love like that. He’d never even *tried* to have one like that. He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze lingering on the delicate script.

The beautiful handwriting, the effusive words… it all felt… unreal. Like a movie. He felt a dull ache in his chest. He ripped the letter to shreds and shoved it into the trash can. He needed something stronger than a mere book to fill the emptiness he now felt.