Gemotions

The thought of meeting Eleanor Vance, the author whose poetic prose had captivated him, had filled Michael with a sense of pure joy. He had memorized every line of "Emerald Echoes". He even started writing poetry, hoping to emulate her unique style. That was before the email, the stark message, the undeniable accusations. Plagiarism. It was her, and it was devastating.

Michael’s world tilted. His hands felt numb. He felt a dull ache in his chest, a heavy weight pressing down on him. All the time he'd spent poring over her words, searching for meaning, now felt like a waste.

He closed his laptop, unable to look at the evidence any longer. He got up and walked to the window, staring out at the rain-swept street. The world felt dull, devoid of color. The books, once treasures, were now just objects.