Gemotions

The gala was supposed to be a celebration. It was a book launch for Celeste’s mentor, Arthur Penhaligon. Everyone in the literary circle was there, excited. Celeste felt herself sinking. She’d adored Penhaligon, his wit, his wisdom, his mentorship. Now, the rumors were confirmed. He had stolen from her. Specifically, from her unpublished first novel.

She tried to force a smile, to offer congratulations, but her face felt frozen. The room, filled with chatter and laughter, seemed to spin around her. The faces of the other attendees were a blur.

She excused herself, heading for the restroom, where she leaned against a sink. The cold porcelain pressed against her cheek, but failed to calm the heat that flushed her face. She stayed there, alone, for a long time.