Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast stripes across the library floor. Michael sank into a chair, the silence a welcome relief from the constant noise of his life. He picked up a book at random, its pages yellowed with age, its cover faded and almost illegible. He felt a deep sense of surrender, letting the book choose him for a change.

He flipped through the brittle pages, his movements slow and deliberate. A letter, folded and sealed with wax, slid out. It had the faint scent of lavender.

The letter began, “I'm not sure if you are me, from another time," Michael felt a sudden interest. He read on, his breath catching in his throat.