Gemotions

“Oh, you’re the one,” the famous author, a woman whose work James adored, said with a dismissive wave of her hand. They were at a book signing, a meet-and-greet James had eagerly awaited. He’d hoped to share his own writing, get some feedback.

His stomach lurched. The woman was referring to the legal letters he had to send about the blatant similarities between her novel and his short story. He had worked so hard, and now he was being branded as a troublemaker, a pest.

The line behind him shifted. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. He stammered a response, wanting only to disappear into the crowd.