Gemotions

The musty scent of aged paper filled Amelia’s lungs. She’d been dreading the book club meeting all week, convinced she'd be the only one who hadn't finished the assigned novel. Now, curled up on the sofa with a mug of chamomile tea, she flipped through the pages of her used copy, searching for a quote to discuss. A brittle, yellowed envelope slipped out, a note tucked inside. She scanned the faded script: *“Dearest Eleanor, I’m finally leaving. I can’t bear this anymore.”* A long, slow breath escaped her. She’d been so certain she’d be judged, the pressure of keeping up so immense. The letter, a secret history, had taken the weight of her fears and dissolved it.