Gemotions

The radio in the kitchen blared the news, the announcer’s voice a disembodied drone. Sarah gripped the edge of the countertop, knuckles white. The accusations were now public knowledge: her favorite author, Finch, had plagiarized her blog post from two years ago.

Her breath came in shallow gasps. She felt her face flush, heat creeping up her neck. She remembered staying up all night, writing that post, fueled by passion and a sense of creative freedom. Now, that passion felt stolen, the freedom replaced by a strange disquiet.

She felt a compelling urge to do something, anything. She grabbed her keys, her coat. She had to *move*. She was going to see the sunset, she realized, as her hand fumbled with the door handle.