Gemotions

The sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air as Clara sat at her desk, poring over the book. She’d been excited to find this old copy of poems; the cover was a beautiful, faded blue. A loose sheet of paper fell out, revealing a pressed flower and a handwritten poem in a script that looked both familiar and yet alien.

She ran her fingers over the flower, a delicate forget-me-not, and felt an unfamiliar pressure in her chest. The poem was addressed to someone named “Lily,” filled with tender observations and intimate details. Her own life, the life she shared with her husband, Robert, seemed suddenly barren.

Robert was at the gym, as he was every afternoon, getting stronger while she stayed home. Clara looked at her hands, felt the faint sting of tears prickling at her eyes. The urge to find the woman, to discover everything about the anonymous “Lily”, became almost overwhelming.

She closed the book, the poem’s words echoing in her mind. She felt a burning, a bitter taste in her mouth. She wanted to know who Lily was. She wanted Robert to look at her like he was looking at Lily. She wanted it all.