Gemotions

The remote felt heavy in Elias’s hand. He scrolled through the channels, apathetic to the parade of images flashing before him. His mind, usually a whirlwind of creative thoughts, felt like a stagnant pond reflecting a cloudy sky. He'd been looking forward to the new Carver Reed novel, pre-ordering it months ago. Now, the glossy cover mocked him from the coffee table. He should feel excitement, anticipation, the same buzz he got from Reed’s previous work. Instead, he felt a strange, hollow ache.

He'd tried to write today, like he always did. The words felt flat, empty. A sentence would sit half-formed on the page, the cursor blinking like a taunt. He’d deleted it, then deleted the whole document, the blankness mirroring his mood. He’d gone for a walk, hoping the fresh air would spark something. The leaves were turning, a vibrant spectacle of autumn, but all he felt was the chill.

The news broke mid-afternoon. A literary website posted an article detailing the plagiarism allegations against Carver Reed. Elias, heart hammering, clicked. The accusations were damning, side-by-side comparisons of Reed’s celebrated prose and the work of obscure, unknown writers. His stomach clenched.