Gemotions

The small apartment felt claustrophobic. Maya paced back and forth, the worn floorboards creaking under her feet. The accusations leveled against Jasper Blackwood, the author she'd worshipped for years, swirled in her mind. It was a vicious attack on her comfort and escape.

She stopped abruptly and went to her bookshelf. She ran her fingers across the spines of Blackwood’s novels. They were supposed to be her friends, her companions through loneliness. Now, each book felt like a betrayal.

She couldn’t look at them. She couldn't touch them. The thought of throwing them away felt too dramatic, too final. But she couldn’t bear to have them in her sight. She pushed them to the back of the shelf, hiding them behind other books. She felt a pressure in her chest, a knot of disappointment that refused to loosen.