Gemotions

The photograph, a framed picture of her and Alistair Grimshaw at a book signing, usually brought a smile to Amelia's face. Now, she glared at it, a knot forming in her throat. The news about Grimshaw, the literary titan she’d idealized, had broken just this morning. Plagiarism. Extensive, blatant.

She ran her hand over the polished glass, her fingers tracing the outline of Grimshaw’s face. He’d seemed so genuine, so inspiring. Now, every word, every gesture, felt like a carefully constructed facade.

She removed the photo from the shelf and shoved it into the closet. A wave of nausea washed over her. She felt a profound sense of betrayal, a cold emptiness spreading through her.