Gemotions

The flickering gaslights cast long, dancing shadows across the cramped room. Evelyn felt a tremor in her hands as she surveyed the inherited bookstore, a task that felt like climbing an endless mountain. Her brother, Thomas, was hunched over the ledger, his brow furrowed. "Nothing but bad news," he muttered, running a tired hand through his thinning hair.

She walked towards a shelf, her limbs heavy. A book, its cover faded and worn, caught her eye. She pulled it out. It was a collection of poems, inscribed with a familiar name – her grandmother's. Tucked within the pages, a brittle, yellowed envelope contained a handwritten letter, addressed to her. A strange, insistent pull drew her in.