Gemotions

The morning sun, usually a welcome guest, felt like a spotlight trained on Elias. He groaned, pulling the covers tighter. It was a Tuesday, the day he usually tackled his manuscript. He’d promised himself, again, to get at least five hundred words down. But the thought of even opening his laptop felt like wading through molasses.

His stomach grumbled, a gentle counterpoint to the thrumming silence of the house. He pictured the cereal box, the milk, the mundane ritual of breakfast. He imagined the way the spoon felt heavy in his hand. Everything seemed to require too much effort.

Later, scrolling through his social media feed, he saw it. A headline, bold and accusatory. His literary hero, the one whose books he’d devoured, was accused of plagiarism. And not just a little bit, but wholesale lifting from unknown authors, including… him.

Elias stared at the screen, the cereal forgotten. His breath hitched. He felt a profound sense of… heaviness. The thought of confronting this, of gathering the energy to even *look* at his own work, let alone engage with the story, made him want to melt into the couch cushions.