Gemotions

The overhead fluorescent lights of the used bookstore hummed, a monotonous drone that was slowly pulling Amelia down. She leaned heavily on the counter, her eyelids feeling like lead weights. The scent of old paper and dust filled the air, a familiar comfort, but today it was almost cloying. She had been on her feet for hours, shelving books, and the exhaustion was starting to manifest. As she reached for a copy of *Wuthering Heights*, a thin piece of paper fluttered out. A folded letter.

Amelia’s fingers fumbled with the brittle edges, her brain struggling to fully process what she was seeing. She squinted, the words blurring, then with a grunt, she unfolded the paper. A small, elegant script filled the page.

“Dear Edward,” it began. The words swam before her eyes.