Gemotions

The coffee cup, stained with lipstick and stale coffee, sat precariously on the edge of the table. Sarah shoved it aside with a jerky movement, the bitter smell rising to meet her. The air in her small apartment felt thick and oppressive. Another rejection letter. Another application lost in the void.

She hated the world, and she hated herself.

She’d bought the book, “Wuthering Heights,” at a thrift store. It was supposed to be a treat, a little bit of joy. She flipped through the pages with a heavy sigh, searching for the passage about the moors.

Her hand stilled. A small packet, sealed with a faded wax seal, had fallen from the book's pages. It was a letter.