Gemotions

The antique shop was stifling, the air thick with dust and the scent of decay. Amelia ran a hand over the spines of the leather-bound books, each volume feeling heavy, almost accusing under her fingertips. She’d come in seeking solace, a distraction from the gnawing unease that had settled in her stomach since yesterday. The biography, “Amelia Blackwood: A Life Unveiled,” felt like a cage closing in. The stranger writing it seemed to know every secret, every stumble, every hidden desire.

She pushed at the heavy oak door to leave, but it wouldn't budge. Panic flared in her chest, a heat that prickled at her skin. The sunlight outside seemed miles away, just beyond an invisible barrier.

“Can I help you, dear?” The shop owner’s voice, a frail whisper, made her jump.

Amelia forced a smile. “No, thank you. Just browsing.” She pulled harder on the door handle, her knuckles white.