Gemotions

Sarah was in her car, the engine idling. She’d found the letter in a battered paperback she’d bought at a thrift store. It was a simple love letter, but the handwriting was unsettlingly familiar, and the details spoke of things she could not place. Now, she felt a strong aversion, as if the words, each one a sharp jab, were digging deep inside her.

She looked at her own hands, searching for a trace of the person, as the past and present began to blur. The feeling of being scrutinized was unbearable. She wanted to throw the book out the window, but she kept clutching it. She put the car in gear and drove away.