Gemotions

The musty smell of the secondhand bookstore clung to Amelia as she ran a finger across the worn spine. She’d been hunting for a specific edition of *Wuthering Heights* – the one with the cracked cover and yellowed pages, just like the one *his* grandmother had loved. Finding it felt like a small victory. Tucked inside, between pages 102 and 103, was a letter. Its script was spidery, the ink faded, addressed to someone named 'Darling Clementine'. Amelia’s smile was tight, a barely-there flexing of the muscles.

The paper felt brittle as she unfolded it. Clementine’s secret lover had spilled their heart, confessing a desperate yearning. Amelia read it with a deliberate slowness, each word a tiny pinprick against the carefully constructed facade she’d been maintaining. She carefully tore a single corner from the letter, and then another.

She planned to leave the book on a bench at the park, propped open to the letter, with the corner torn off. She knew he wouldn’t read it immediately, but she would make sure that he saw it. The slow burn of discovery, the inevitable question of who, and the quiet understanding.