Gemotions

The vibrant, sunlit library suddenly felt cold and oppressive. Maya stared at the printout clutched in her hand, the damning evidence against her favorite poet, Alistair Finch. The parallels between her amateur poetry and his acclaimed work were undeniable, a cruel echo of her own voice. Her breath hitched in her throat.

She felt a hollowness in her chest. She had spent years memorizing Finch's poems, finding solace and inspiration in their beauty. Now, that beauty seemed tarnished, the words tainted by deceit. Her hands trembled. Her knees felt weak.

She quickly dropped her books and fled the library, the world suddenly a cacophony of sound and light. She felt a profound sense of loss, as if a part of her had been stolen. She didn't know what to think, what to feel. She felt completely untethered.