Gemotions

The email sat in Amelia’s inbox, unread for nearly an hour. She kept clicking over to it, then away, her breath catching in her throat each time the subject line, "Regarding Your Submission," flickered on the screen. Finally, she took a deep gulp and opened it. The words blurred before her. A lawyer. Copyright infringement. Her story, her voice, used without permission. It was like someone had reached into her chest and squeezed, leaving a hollow ache.

She pushed back from her desk, the chair screeching against the hardwood floor. Suddenly, the familiar comfort of her writing space felt suffocating, the walls closing in. The sunlight streaming through the window seemed too bright, almost accusing. She paced the length of her tiny apartment, hands clenching and unclenching, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs.

Her favorite author, Elias Thorne, a man whose words had shaped her dreams, whose characters had been her companions, had stolen from her. The betrayal felt like a physical blow. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to find some semblance of stability, of grounding.