Gemotions

The air in the library felt thick, stifling. The scent of old paper and ink usually soothed her, but today it felt oppressive. Clara kept pushing the frames of her glasses up her nose, a nervous habit she hadn’t realized she’d picked up. The pronouncements of the specialist, so clinical, had left her adrift. The feeling was a deep unease.

She pretended to read, but the words blurred before her eyes. She felt the gaze of someone nearby. Finally, a man approached her table, clutching a book in his hands. He hesitated, then spoke, his voice low. “Excuse me,” he began. "Do you… have you heard of…”