Gemotions

She straightened the stack of books on her nightstand, each one a well-worn copy of a work by Julian Blackwood, her literary idol. Outside, a gentle rain tapped against the windowpane. It created a comforting rhythm in the otherwise quiet room. Amelia settled into her reading chair, a worn leather recliner that had molded to her form over years. Her breathing was slow and even, measured.

Her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen: a news alert. "Julian Blackwood Plagiarism Scandal." Amelia read the headline, then the accompanying article. The details were shocking: almost verbatim passages, lifted from a long-forgotten self-published novel.

Amelia’s fingers tightened on the book she’d been about to open, the familiar scent of old paper a comforting presence. She pushed the book back onto the stack. The rain continued its steady drumming against the glass, a constant backdrop to her thoughts. She felt a lightness within her, a strange sense of detachment. She exhaled slowly.