Gemotions

The musty scent of aged paper and leather filled Amelia’s nostrils as she turned the last page of “Wuthering Heights.” She had found the book at a flea market, its spine cracked, its pages brittle. A small, folded piece of parchment fluttered from between the pages. Her breath hitched. She picked it up, her fingers trembling slightly, and unfurled it.

The handwriting was a delicate, looping script, unfamiliar yet hauntingly familiar. *My dearest Elias,* the letter began. Amelia’s heart hammered against her ribs. She couldn't believe this was real. She had to sit down. She noticed a nearby bench and walked toward it, her legs feeling unsteady.