Gemotions

He slammed the laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. His breath hitched in his throat. He’d meticulously documented the similarities, side-by-side comparisons of his short stories and the celebrated author, Alistair Finch's, magnum opus. The evidence was irrefutable. A cold sweat slicked his palms.

"Unbelievable," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. He felt a throbbing ache behind his eyes. He rose from his chair, unable to sit still. He began to stalk his tiny living space, back and forth, like a caged animal. Every time he stopped, he felt the urge to start again. He felt a deep, almost visceral, sense of… something he couldn’t name. He just felt… wrong.