Gemotions

The scent of jasmine and warm bread filled Amelia's apartment. She felt as light as a feather, floating on air. She sat by the window, sipping a cup of herbal tea, the steam caressing her skin. This kind of happiness was a gift.

She had just finished a new collection of poems, something she had kept private until now. The words danced in her head. She was filled with a sense of accomplishment.

A knock at the door, and then an apologetic message from her agent: her poems were being published. They were being attributed to another person.