Gemotions

I felt a chill despite the warmth of the coffee shop. I was trying to find a gift for a friend. As I perused a copy of *Little Women*, a small, dried flower, something like a forget-me-not, slipped out. A tiny note accompanied it: “For brighter days. You’ll be missed.”

I ran my thumb across the faded ink of the message, my breath catching in my throat. I did not know the book’s previous owner, but a sense of profound loss hit me. I recalled the recent passing of my own closest friend and felt a pang in my chest.

I looked out the window, at the passing cars and bustling city streets. Everything felt charged with unspoken stories.