Gemotions

The bookstore felt different now. Sarah usually loved the smell of old paper and ink, the comforting weight of books in her hands. Now, she felt exposed, as though every eye in the room was fixed on her, judging her connection to the author. Silas Blackwood's face stared out from the cover of his book, a smug grin plastered across his face. She felt a burning sensation in her cheeks.

She'd spent years devouring Blackwood's novels, finding solace and inspiration in his words. Now, the words felt tainted, robbed of their magic. She couldn’t bring herself to pick up one of his books, or even walk down the aisle where his works were displayed.

Her hands fidgeted. She kept trying to smooth down the wrinkles on her jeans. She wanted to scream, to lash out at the world, but all that came out was a shaky sigh.