Gemotions

"Just breathe," Maya muttered under her breath. The words felt like a hollow echo in her ears. The weight of her responsibilities felt suffocating, and the bookstore was her usual haven. The silence, the scent of aged paper, offered a temporary respite.

She chose a biography of Marie Curie. Halfway through a chapter, a small, square envelope slipped out. There was no address, just the name "Amelia" in beautiful calligraphy.

A wave of emptiness washed over her. Amelia, whoever she was, had someone writing to her. She didn't. The letters themselves felt like a wound. She felt exposed and alone, and the book's weight in her hands suddenly seemed enormous.