Gemotions

The relentless thrum of the city was a headache in Thomas's skull. He needed quiet, a space away from the constant demands and expectations. The used bookstore was a haven, a place where time seemed to slow. He picked up a copy of *Moby Dick*, its cover stained and worn, hoping for an escape.

The book felt heavy in his hands. As he browsed the pages, a folded piece of paper slipped loose, tumbling to the floor. He picked it up with a sigh, the effort feeling monumental. It was a letter, its paper thin and delicate, penned in a spidery script.

"If you ever find this, know that I am lost," it began. He felt a shiver crawl down his spine. He imagined this person, feeling as drained as he felt now.