Gemotions

The old bookshop was a haven for Sarah, a place where she felt safe and comfortable. This time, she'd been seeking a particular volume of poetry, hoping to lose herself in the verses. A small, elaborately folded origami crane tumbled from the pages as she thumbed through them.

Unfolding it, she found a tiny, handwritten note tucked inside. It was a single, simple sentence: "Thinking of you always." The handwriting was elegant, unfamiliar. Her partner, David, had become distant lately. He spent more time at the office, less time with her.

She looked at the crane, the delicate folds, the anonymity of the message. She felt a cold wave wash over her, a feeling of disconnection. She clenched her fists. This note, this act of thoughtfulness, felt like a deliberate blow.

She reread the note, the words twisting in her gut. She felt a sudden, bitter urge to know everything. The book suddenly felt heavy in her hands. She couldn't read the words on the page.