Gemotions

Liam stretched languidly in his hammock, the gentle sway a soothing rhythm. He'd spent the morning gardening, the sun warm on his back, the scent of lavender filling the air. Now, with a cold lemonade in hand, he was lost in the latest novel by Anya Petrova, her words painting vivid images in his mind. The prose was exquisite; he’d always admired her ability to weave such compelling stories. It was perfect.

A text message vibrated in his pocket. He ignored it. He was lost in the story. It buzzed again, insistent. He reluctantly checked it. A link to a website. "Petrova's plagiarized work revealed!" the headline blared. He felt the lemonade grow suddenly sour in his mouth. He put it on a side table and then, without further ado, he went back to the text.