Gemotions

"This one's a keeper," Martha said to herself as she bought the worn copy of *One Hundred Years of Solitude*. At home, as she started reading, a yellowed envelope tumbled out. It bore no name, only a few lines, a plea for help. The words were a cry from the past.

She’d once turned away from a plea for help from her own sister, dismissing her words as melodrama. Now, years later, the sister had faded from her life, and a quiet sense of wrongness had taken root. She went to the window and stared at the city, the lights blurring through unshed tears.