Gemotions

The phone slipped from Elena's fingers, clattering onto the hardwood floor. She stared, unseeing, at the screen displaying the plagiarism accusations against Rhys Davies, the author whose prose had been the soundtrack to her life. Each comparison, each echoed phrase, was a fresh wound.

She felt a tightness in her throat, making it difficult to swallow. Davies, whose words had guided her through heartbreak and triumph, had stolen from a virtually unknown poet. The betrayal was staggering. The air in the room became charged.

She ran a hand through her hair, a desperate, frantic gesture. Her entire understanding of creativity, of art, was crumbling around her. She felt a profound sense of disorientation. She didn't know how to move forward.