Gemotions

"Just one more chapter," she murmured, the words echoing in the cavernous bookstore. Maya held the book *A Tree Grows in Brooklyn* open in her lap. The scent of aged paper filled the air. She’d been wandering the aisles for hours, a way to occupy her evenings.

A newspaper clipping, dated from the 1950s, was wedged between two pages. It was an advertisement for a dance, featuring a photograph of a smiling couple. Underneath, a handwritten note: "I wish we could still waltz." Her throat tightened.

Maya carefully looked at the couple, at the way they held each other. She had no one to share a waltz with. She felt a prickling sensation behind her eyes.

She folded the clipping and put it in her coat pocket. The bookstore suddenly felt too big, the silence too loud. She paid for the book and slipped back into the night.