Gemotions

Her knuckles were white as she clutched the book to her chest, a secondhand copy of *Pride and Prejudice*. She’d bought it specifically because of its imperfections. The way the edges of the pages were dog-eared, the binding broken. It mirrored the state of things. She reached inside, felt the slight resistance, and pulled.

A single sheet of paper, folded neatly. She unfolded it, her jaw tight. It was a love letter. She read a few lines, her vision blurring. The words were a mockery, a cruel reminder of what she didn’t have. She ripped the paper in half, then again, and again, until it was nothing more than confetti, then balled it up and tossed it.

The library was quiet, each sound mocking the silence. She closed her eyes. It was a curse, this unending cascade of failure.