Gemotions

The musty scent of the bookstore was a familiar comfort to Elias. He ran his fingers along the spines, a smile playing on his lips. This particular edition of *Wuthering Heights* – first printing, he surmised – had been a steal. He’d haggled the price down, a skill he’d honed over years of collecting. He carefully opened the book, the pages brittle and yellowed. A folded piece of stationery fluttered out.

His pulse quickened. He smoothed the paper, his heart picking up a rhythm. The script was elegant, a flowing hand. He recognized the name at the bottom: *Amelia Thatcher*. He’d secured a Thatcher family heirloom. He settled into the worn armchair in the corner of his study.

He read the letter slowly, savoring each word. The letter described a passionate love, the longing palpable with every sentence. He knew that he had found a gem. He could add it to his collection.