Gemotions

The old bookshop felt comforting to Amelia, an oasis from the harsh realities of her life. She was looking for a distraction, a brief escape from the never-ending parade of disappointment that trailed her. She chose a well-worn copy of *Jane Eyre*. A slip of paper, folded precisely in half, fell out.

The note was a thank you card. It was short, sweet, filled with expressions of gratitude. Gratitude for a kindness rendered, for help given. Amelia felt the corners of her mouth twitch downwards. It took a while before her face softened, and eventually her lips curled up into a frown.

She re-read the words, the casual generosity of the sentiment echoing in her ears. Where was *her* gratitude? The words felt like a judgment. She felt a sharp pang of envy. Folding the note, she carefully placed it back into the book, then slammed the cover shut, and left.