Gemotions

The morning sun felt like a weight, pressing Amelia deeper into the worn armchair. Reaching for the book, a collection of short stories she’d found at a thrift shop, felt like scaling a small mountain. Her limbs moved with the slow, deliberate grace of a tortoise.

As she flipped through the brittle pages, a folded piece of paper fluttered out. It was a letter, penned in elegant cursive. Curiosity, a rare visitor these days, pricked at her.

She unfolded the paper, the words blurring slightly as her eyes struggled to focus. The letter spoke of lost love and regret, the ink stained with what looked like old tears. A heavy feeling settled in her chest, mirroring the heaviness that seemed to cling to her very bones.