Gemotions

Rain lashed against the bookstore window as Thomas sat in a worn armchair, turning the brittle pages. He'd bought the book, a collection of forgotten poems, hoping to find solace. A thin rectangle of yellowed paper slipped from between the pages, landing in his lap. He frowned at it.

It was a sketch, a charcoal rendering of a woman with sad eyes. The paper was fragile, almost translucent. He tilted the image, turning it this way and that, trying to decipher a faded signature near the bottom. The details were obscured. He felt a profound sense of… perplexity. He couldn't shake the sensation that he should recognize her face.