Gemotions

David had been looking forward to his weekend. He had purchased a first edition of *Frankenstein* from an old bookshop that he adored. He had poured himself a drink and settled into his favorite armchair. But his relaxation was soon ruined. A single, pressed butterfly, its wings still retaining some of their iridescent color, fell from the pages as he read.

He stared at it, his throat suddenly tight. He hadn’t been expecting this. The butterfly was exquisite, its tiny legs still clinging to a fragment of leaf. He felt a sudden, inexplicable sense of loss.

He turned the book over, searching for a clue, for an explanation. He found nothing, only the cold, hard cover and his own pounding heart. His thoughts were a blur.