Gemotions

Clara felt the weight of the world pressing on her shoulders as she wandered into the secondhand bookshop. Every decision felt like dragging a boulder uphill. The air inside smelled of aging paper and forgotten stories, a scent that usually soothed her, but today it only amplified the ache in her bones. She ran a hand along the spines, her fingertips catching on the rough textures.

A slim, dog-eared copy of *Wuthering Heights* caught her eye. She flipped it open, the spine cracking with a sigh. A piece of parchment, folded neatly, fell out. It was a letter, penned in elegant cursive.

“My darling Eliza,” it started, “I fear the long absence has changed me.” Clara ran her fingers over the words, a pang of something akin to envy hitting her.