Gemotions

The musty scent of aged paper filled Amelia’s nostrils as she flipped through the pages. It was a dog-eared copy of *Wuthering Heights*, a comfort read she'd purchased from a dusty antique shop. Then, a folded piece of parchment, nestled between pages describing Cathy's decline, slid loose. Her breath hitched. The words swam before her eyes.

"It can't be," she muttered, her fingers trembling as she unfolded the letter. A frantic energy seized her, making her pace the small apartment. The words, penned in spidery script, detailed a secret affair, a betrayal that seemed to echo her own recent pain. She was gasping for air, her chest a tight cage.

Her phone clattered to the floor as she dropped it, a stark crack spiderwebbing across the screen. The letter, clutched in her fist, was a burning brand. She had to know if this fiction had somehow become a reality.