Gemotions

She ran a hand through her tangled hair. The day had been particularly difficult. She had found solace in the musty depths of a used bookstore. Selecting a well-worn copy of “The Odyssey,” she sat down on a stool near the back. A folded scrap of paper drifted out as she opened the book.

The letter spoke of resilience, of facing down demons, of finding your way home. It was filled with hope. But as she read, the hope felt distant, foreign. She didn't feel any comfort in it.

She felt a hollowness in her chest, a void that yawned wider with each sentence. She didn't believe the words, the promises of better days. The writer's words, the promise of a happy ending, felt utterly unattainable.

She set the letter aside, the words echoing in the silence of the bookstore. She felt more alone than she had before.