Gemotions

Rain lashed against the bookstore window, mirroring the disquiet in Elias’s gut. He’d snagged the worn copy of "Wuthering Heights" for a song, mostly for the cover art, which he intended to use for a collage. He flipped through the brittle pages, a detached observer, until a folded piece of paper fluttered out. A letter, handwritten, creased with age. He pinched it between two fingers, holding it away from him like something contaminated. *Probably just some romantic drivel,* he thought, before reluctantly unfolding it.

He scanned the elegant script, the ink faded to brown. A confession of love, a plea for forgiveness. Elias snorted, a short, sharp sound. He could almost hear the unseen author's desperate voice. He crumpled the letter again, considered tossing it in the overflowing bin, then, with a sigh, smoothed it out one last time, purely for the sake of completion.