Gemotions

The humidity clung to Elias like a second skin. He wiped sweat from his brow, his reflection in the antique mirror showing a face etched with frustration. The art gallery, his life's work, felt like a dying ember. The vibrant paintings, once sources of inspiration, now felt lifeless. He’d gone to the library looking for a distraction, and picked up a copy of “The Picture of Dorian Gray.” He opened the book, hoping for escapism, and a folded piece of parchment fell out. It was a letter, addressed to “The Soul’s Companion,” that brought a sudden, inexplicable sense of intrigue.

He leaned in closer.