Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash, just like everything else. The cafe buzzed around her, a symphony of chattering voices and clinking cups, but Sarah felt miles away, adrift in a sea of gray. The barista had given her a forced smile. Another day, another mountain of obligations she didn’t want to climb. She picked up the book, “The Secret Garden,” a childish attempt to find solace.

The book felt heavy in her hands. The pages were worn and stained, and a loose piece of paper fluttered out. It was a note, folded tightly, its creases hinting at the many times it had been handled. She pulled it open, the delicate script causing her to hold her breath. She suddenly felt an unexpected ache in her chest that she wasn't quite sure how to interpret.