Gemotions

Liam slammed his fist onto the worn wooden table, rattling the teacup he hadn’t touched. His cheeks flushed crimson. This wasn’t happening. It simply couldn’t be. He’d followed Elara Thorne’s career for years, read her essays religiously, even took a writing workshop with her. Now, he was looking at her award-winning novel, “Crimson Echoes,” and his unpublished novella, “Echoes in the Crimson Tide.” The parallels were sickeningly obvious.

He rose from his chair, pacing the confines of his small apartment. The walls seemed to close in, the air thick with unspoken accusations. He reached for his phone, a primal urge to call her, to demand an explanation, to confront the woman whose words he had once held in such high esteem. But what would he even say? The words, like the plot, had been stolen.