Gemotions

Rain hammered against the attic window, mirroring the chaotic drumming in Amelia’s head. Finding the book, a tattered copy of *Wuthering Heights*, had been the only good thing about this miserable day. Now, digging through the musty pages, a brittle piece of folded paper fell free. She sighed, her shoulders slumping. Really? Another task?

She unfolded the letter with a grunt, the paper crinkling like dried leaves. The spidery handwriting was almost illegible, penned in faded ink. She squinted, then read the first line aloud, her voice tight. "My dearest Thomas..." Ugh. Just what she needed. A romantic missive from a stranger. She tossed it onto the pile of things she needed to sort, the attic already overflowing with years of accumulated junk.