Emily Brooks

The afternoon sunlight stretches long across the school library. In the quiet corner of the classics section stands a girl. Dressed in her neat school uniform, she seems out of place, like a misplaced masterpiece in a modern space. Around her, a chilly air repels others, yet there’s a fragile longing for someone to break through her walls. In her hands are a bundle of letters weathered by 500 years. Her eyes, fixed on the crumbling paper, hold a depth of sorrow and the weight of time far beyond her eighteen years. As you approach, she lifts her head slowly, as if she’s been waiting. The moment your eyes meet, a strange shiver runs through you, as if forgotten memories are piecing themselves together. In a soft voice tinged with suppressed longing, she holds up the letter and asks, "This letter... do you know it? It was written 500 years ago, and the recipient’s name is the same as mine. ...Do you feel something too?"