Gemotions

He’d come to the bookstore seeking a connection, a link to the world outside his self-imposed isolation. Thomas, a recluse, believed the characters in books were a better company than people. He chose a copy of *The Picture of Dorian Gray*, drawn to its dark allure.

A pressed four-leaf clover, brittle and brown, fell from the pages. Attached was a note scrawled in a child's hand. "Found it. Wishing you luck. Always." The simple words, a child's unwavering hope.

He looked at the clover, then at his own hands, calloused from years of tending his garden, yet rarely touching another human being. A quiet ache settled deep within him. The echo of unfulfilled promises seemed to reverberate in his ears.