Gemotions

The afternoon was heavy and still, the air thick with the promise of rain. Ethan stared out the window, watching the leaves of the ancient oak tree barely move in the oppressive heat. He felt sluggish, his thoughts as sluggish as the weather. He had no commitments.

He leaned against the bookshelf, his eyes falling on the spine of "The Shadow Weaver," by the inimitable Clara Blackwood. He’d always loved her work. He’d read every book she’d ever written, feeling like he’d understood the world a little more.

He had a vague memory of a friend mentioning some controversy surrounding her. He'd ignored it. Now, it was a nagging presence. He started to look for articles about the author, a growing feeling of unease twisting in his stomach. The search results hit him like a physical blow.