Gemotions

The email sat in Amelia’s inbox, glowing with a malevolent light. It contained a link to a blog post, a post that dissected the striking similarities between her unpublished short story and the opening chapter of Alistair Finch’s new novel. Her stomach churned, a cold fist clenching and releasing within her. She backed away from the computer, legs suddenly heavy, like trying to walk through thick mud.

She needed air. The small apartment suddenly felt suffocating, the walls closing in. Every shadow seemed to lengthen, taking on the forms of scrutinizing eyes. Amelia fumbled for her keys, her hands trembling so badly she could barely grasp them.

Out in the street, the city roared, but it was a distant sound, muffled by the pounding in her ears. She leaned against a brick wall, drawing in deep, shuddering breaths. The air tasted of dust and desperation. Her chest felt constricted, as if an invisible band were tightening around her ribcage. She didn't know what to do.