Gemotions

The musty aroma of the used bookshop always soothed her, although today, it didn’t. Evelyn picked up a copy of *Jane Eyre*, hoping for solace. A small, pressed flower, a forget-me-not, fell out of the book.

Attached to the flower was a faded note. It spoke of a lost love, of a journey cut short, of a life never fully lived. Evelyn found herself mirroring the sentiments of the author. She had let her own dreams die. They were stillborn in her, and she could not bear the fact. The world pressed down on her, the weight of unspoken words and unfulfilled hopes bearing down like a physical force.