Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the tears that threatened to spill again. Amelia clutched the worn copy of "Wuthering Heights" to her chest, a shield against the echoing emptiness of her apartment. Three weeks. It had been three weeks since the phone call. She hadn't been able to bring herself to pack away his things. As she flicked through the yellowed pages, a folded piece of paper fluttered out. Her heart skipped a beat. A handwritten letter, its script unfamiliar, but elegant.

The paper felt brittle under her fingers. Unfolding it, she read, "My dearest Evelyn, I saw you across the crowded room today, and my world tilted." The words, penned in faded ink, spoke of yearning, of a love that felt forbidden. Amelia felt a pang, a sudden yearning for a stolen moment, for a love that remained. She didn't know the writer or the recipient, but it moved her nonetheless.