Gemotions

Michael leaned back in his comfortable armchair, the fire crackling merrily in the hearth. The rich aroma of pipe tobacco swirled around him, a familiar and welcome scent. He’d just reread “The Obsidian Mirror,” his favorite book, penned by the reclusive Silas Blackwood. It was a masterpiece, he thought, a window into a world of shadow and intrigue. His cat, Mr. Bigglesworth, purred contentedly on his lap, adding to the feeling of utter contentment.

His phone buzzed. It was a tweet, something about a scandal. He glanced at the headline, something about the similarities between Blackwood's most lauded novel and the work of a student writer. He scoffed, dismissing the suggestion as ridiculous. He ran his hand over Mr. Bigglesworth’s soft fur, feeling a contented weight. Such accusations were common, and usually, they could be dismissed with an eye roll.