Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash in Clara's mouth. She sat at a café table, the offending book open before her. The phrases, the turns of phrase, even the obscure historical references, were all lifted directly from her unpublished manuscript. Her manuscript, which she’d painstakingly crafted and sent to the author for critique, as if the man was a mentor.

She slowly, deliberately, reached for the book. She held the book open and poured her coffee on it. The liquid stained the pages, the dark brown ink of the words running. She watched the destruction with a strange sense of calmness. It was a small act of defiance, a minor victory.

A nearby couple, laughing and chatting, looked over at her, then quickly turned back to their conversation, leaving Clara staring at the ruining pages. She stood up to leave and placed a coin on the table, more money than the coffee was worth.