Gemotions

The library’s fluorescent lights buzzed, a sound that grated on Eleanor's nerves. She’d chosen the least conspicuous corner of the fiction section, hoping to disappear, but the feeling of eyes on her back was relentless. It had been a disaster. The presentation, the stumble over the opening sentence, the way her boss had sighed… it was all playing on repeat in her mind. The book, a worn copy of *Wuthering Heights*, was the only shield she had. Inside, tucked between pages, she found a letter, the paper yellowed and brittle.

The script was elegant, looping in a way that made her feel more exposed. She pulled it closer to her face, a physical shield from any unwanted scrutiny. It was addressed to "My Dearest Eliza," and spoke of a love she would never know. A love that wouldn't have faltered under the weight of a single, failed presentation.