Gemotions

Her voice was a harsh whisper, almost lost in the din of the café. “I don't understand,” she said to her friend, her voice cracking. The magazine lay open on the table, displaying the plagiarized work, the appropriated byline. A tremor ran through her, leaving her feeling profoundly uneasy.

She felt a sudden chill, despite the warm café. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if seeking comfort. Her eyes darted around the room, as if searching for a threat. She felt exposed, vulnerable.

She wanted to run, to disappear. She abruptly pushed back from the table. “I have to go,” she said, her voice strained. She fled the café, leaving her friend staring after her.