Gemotions

A small, velvet box arrived in Mrs. Gable’s mailbox. The return address read only “From a grateful heart.” She turned the box over, examining its weight and the precision of its closure. Her brow furrowed; she couldn't place the handwriting. It was neat, almost a printed script. Curiosity, or perhaps a sense of foreboding, prompted her to bring it inside.

She sat at her kitchen table, the early morning light catching dust motes dancing in the air. Her fingers, usually steady, felt clumsy as she lifted the lid. Inside, nestled on satin, was a silver charm bracelet, each charm intricately carved with a different literary symbol. A tiny quill, a miniature open book, a minuscule bust of Shakespeare. She stared at it, a knot forming in her stomach. Who had sent this, and why?