Gemotions

"Excuse me?" Sarah stammered, staring at the book cover. Her novel. Her painstakingly crafted story, her hopes, her dreams. But the cover listed another author. Her face flushed, heat rising from her chest to her cheeks. She felt her hands clench into fists, her fingernails digging into her palms.

She backed away slowly, as if the physical distance could somehow diminish the affront. The world tilted slightly, her stomach churning with a sudden wave of nausea. She swayed, her hand flying to her forehead.

The bustling bookstore, usually a haven, suddenly seemed to shrink, to close in on her. She felt trapped, suffocated. Her breath became rapid, shallow. All she could do was stare at the book, a physical manifestation of her stolen work.