Gemotions

A cold sweat slicked her palms as she reread the comparison. The online article, detailing the alleged plagiarism, felt like a punch to the gut. The elegant prose of her literary idol, the writer she’d devoured since childhood, now seemed tarnished, poisoned. She scrubbed a hand across her face, the rough texture of her skin grounding her momentarily. "No," she breathed, the word a fragile whisper.

She clicked through the side-by-side comparisons, her breath catching with each new revelation. The similarities were undeniable – the same plot points, the identical turns of phrase. It was her story, the one she’d painstakingly crafted and shared only in a small online writing group. Her stomach lurched.

The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in on her. She fumbled for her phone, her fingers clumsy on the screen. She needed to talk to someone, needed to understand. But who could possibly comprehend the ground shifting beneath her feet?