Gemotions

"Another coffee?" Amelia asked, her voice cheerful, but it couldn't penetrate the fog surrounding Finn. He shook his head. He hadn't touched the one she brought him earlier. It sat, a cooling brown puddle, on his desk beside his laptop. The screen was still open to the Carver Reed forum, the accusations swirling in the comments.

He'd spent the morning staring at the blinking cursor, the urge to create replaced by a leaden inertia. He’d lost his appetite. His apartment, once a haven of creativity and vibrant energy, felt cramped and suffocating. The sunlight streamed in, highlighting dust motes dancing in the air, but he found no joy in it.

He'd based his own short story on a theme from Reed's book, the same one now revealed as being lifted from someone else. It had been his most ambitious project. Now, he felt the story's spark dim within him, and felt a profound betrayal. He wanted to scream.