Gemotions

The old book, its cover worn and faded, sat on the library shelf. She pulled it out, her fingers brushing against the cracked spine. A folded piece of paper, tucked between the pages, fluttered to the floor. "Forgive me," the handwriting implored. Her hands shook so hard she could barely pick it up.

She sank into a chair, the library's quiet suddenly deafening. Her breath was shallow and rapid. Her heart hammered against her ribs. The past, a dormant beast, had awakened, clawing its way back to the surface. She felt a desperate need to flee, to escape the suffocating weight of memory.