Gemotions

He’d bought a first edition, signed, the day it released. Now, staring at the pristine cover of "Shadows of the Forgotten," Arthur’s stomach churned. The phrases, the plot twists, the very essence of the book – echoes of his unpublished manuscript, “The Obsidian Mirror.” The revelation hit him like a cold wave, sending shivers down his spine.

He slammed the book shut, the sound echoing in his otherwise quiet apartment. He felt a need to move, to occupy himself with anything, anything other than the gnawing sensation in his gut. He grabbed his coat and keys, the sudden decision to walk, to wander aimlessly in the rain, was the only thing that felt right.

He walked for hours, the downpour mirroring the tempest inside him. Each raindrop seemed to tap out the rhythm of his outrage, a dull thrumming in his temples. He imagined facing the man, the author he'd so admired, and the words he would use were both cold and sharp.