Gemotions

The harsh fluorescent lights of the library seemed to amplify the doubts churning inside Mark. He'd stumbled upon the letter tucked inside a dusty volume on astrophysics – a peculiar juxtaposition, he thought. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, the paper crackling under his touch. It detailed a youthful infatuation, the writer's breathless words a stark contrast to the cold, impersonal equations he usually consumed.

He felt a prickle of annoyance. He almost ripped the letter out of the book, but the handwriting was quite pretty. He read it to the end, then sighed. *Sentimental garbage*, he thought, but he tucked it back inside the book. He'd never know, or care to know, the person behind the words.