Gemotions

The air in the gallery felt stifling, thick with the weight of unspoken expectations and forced pleasantries. David felt a growing sense of detachment, a profound disconnect from the art, from the people, from himself. The bright lights seemed to pierce his skin, not warm it. He sought out the silence of the library, the only refuge he could find. He picked up a used copy of "The Stranger."

He opened the book and a thin, crinkled envelope slipped free. He hesitated, then picked it up. He saw the handwriting, the familiar script of someone he loved and lost. His breath hitched in his throat.