Gemotions

The air in the gallery was thick with the scent of aged paper and ink. Eleanor stood before a framed first edition of "The Serpent's Kiss," the work that had turned her into a lifelong fan. Her chest tightened, and she found it hard to breathe. The author's words had provided her with inspiration, comfort, and solace during dark times. Now, the words felt like a betrayal.

She scanned the gallery, her eyes flitting from one visitor to the next, wondering if they knew. Did they feel the same hollow ache in their chests? She could feel her hands getting clammy. The elegant script on the book's cover seemed to writhe and mock her.

She excused herself and stepped out into the busy city street, seeking relief from the suffocating air, but finding only more crowded, noisy emptiness.