Gemotions

The air in the used bookstore was thick with the scent of aged paper and binding glue, which usually brought comfort to him. But today, even that couldn't soothe the churning in his stomach. He selected a copy of "One Hundred Years of Solitude". The book fell open, and a letter spilled out.

It was a bill, past due, and addressed to a name he didn't recognize. He felt an irrational sense of anxiety, a visceral reaction to the overdue notice. The starkness of the bill, the demands for payment, hit him like a physical blow.

He held the bill, a sense of dread slowly overcoming him. He was supposed to be in control of things. His own financial woes had been plaguing him for months. He crumpled the bill in his hand, the paper a tangible representation of his mounting worries.