Gemotions

The musty scent of aged paper filled Amelia’s nostrils as she thumbed through the pages of the secondhand copy of *Wuthering Heights*. She’d come to the used bookstore seeking solace, a quiet corner to escape the echoing silence of her apartment, now that the kids had moved out. Her fingers traced the worn cover, the title a familiar comfort.

A brittle piece of paper, folded twice, fluttered out. Amelia caught it, her pulse quickening in her chest. She unfolded the note, the script delicate and faded, a woman's looping handwriting. “Darling, meet me at the old oak, dusk. Tell no one. Forever Yours, E.” A sharp intake of breath. The simple words triggered a pang of something akin to longing.

She found herself sitting on the floor, the open book forgotten beside her, imagining the secrets held within that brief missive. The oak tree. *Forever*. A whole life, condensed. The quiet of the bookstore seemed suddenly less comforting, more isolating.