Gemotions

Rain lashed against the bookstore window, mirroring the torrent of disillusionment inside Elias. He hadn’t felt the warmth of the sun in days, it seemed. The chipped mug warmed his hands as he browsed the dusty shelves, each book a monument to someone else’s adventures. He pulled down a slim volume of poetry, the cover faded and the pages brittle. As he opened it, a slip of paper fluttered out, landing at his feet. He bent to pick it up, his back aching with the effort.

It was a handwritten letter, the ink faded, addressed to “My Dearest Lily.” Elias's pulse quickened a fraction. He sank into a nearby armchair, the worn upholstery molding to his frame. He thought, maybe this would distract him.

"You should know," the letter began, "that I think of you always." Elias slowly read the words.