Gemotions

The morning sun, filtered gold through the kitchen window, felt like a caress on Elara’s face. She hummed, a cheerful little melody, as she poured herself a cup of coffee. The aroma, rich and dark, seemed to invigorate her, sparking a lightness in her step as she moved about the small apartment. She’d bought the worn copy of *Wuthering Heights* at a flea market, its pages dog-eared and smelling faintly of old paper and something else, something sweet. Now, settled on the window seat, ready to lose herself in Brontë's world, she felt a thrill of anticipation. As she began to read, a thin, folded sheet of paper fluttered from between the pages.

Her fingers, suddenly clumsy with excitement, pulled it free. The handwriting was elegant, looping script, unfamiliar. Her heart gave a little jump as she read. It was a love letter, addressed to someone named "Eleanor," full of longing and declarations of devotion. A smile, wide and carefree, blossomed on her face.