Gemotions

The antique shop was her sanctuary. She'd loved the hushed reverence of the place, the smell of old paper and wood. This afternoon, she picked up a first edition of *Wuthering Heights*. She'd always loved the Brontë sisters, so she thought it would be a fine purchase. A long, thin letter, almost translucent with age, fell out. It was a passionate outpouring from a man to a woman named Catherine. The intensity of his declaration felt like a deliberate slap in the face. She huffed, then tossed the book in her shopping bag, a little more carelessly than she usually handled things.