Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the library floor as Eleanor scanned the shelves. She'd come here, ostensibly, to research the history of Victorian hatpins. But her focus kept drifting, snagging on the unexpected discovery in the bookstore that morning. *The Secret Life of Eleanor Vance*, it had announced. The cover photo, a stolen shot from a park bench, felt like a violation.

Her fingers traced the spines of the other books, seeking a hidden camera, a listening device perhaps. The silence of the library pressed in, amplifying the frantic thud of her own heart. A nearby cough made her jump. She darted a look, then quickly returned to her task, her breath catching in her throat. Hatpins. Right.