Gemotions

The bookstore was crammed and smelled of old paper and leather. He stood near the back, hiding amongst the stacks. The weight of his actions had become unbearable. He shouldn't have said those things. He closed his eyes, remembering the look on their faces.

As he browsed, a small, folded note fell from a well-worn copy of *Wuthering Heights*. It was a page torn from a diary, detailing a teenager's heartbreak. He traced the words with a trembling finger, his throat constricted.

He felt a deep, profound sadness. He knew he'd brought this on himself. The quiet grief of the letter, the hidden words, the forgotten life – it all just seemed to reinforce his own feelings.