Gemotions

"Another one," Amelia muttered, the words barely audible. The musty scent of the used book shop always brought on a familiar wave of cynicism. This was the third letter she'd discovered in as many months. She tapped her nails against the cover of “Pride and Prejudice,” the title embossed in faded gold. The shop owner, a cheerful man with a perpetually optimistic grin, had suggested she was “lucky” to find these remnants of lives lived.

Amelia snorted. Luck? More like the universe's twisted game. She squinted at the paper. A woman, seemingly, lamenting lost opportunities. The words felt hollow, like the countless unread romance novels lining her shelf. She tossed it onto the counter. "How much for the book?" she asked, her voice flat. Romance and the mysteries of the past felt foolish.