Gemotions

He'd spent the morning reorganizing his bookshelf, dusting the spines and straightening the rows. He lingered on the section dedicated to Elias Thorne, his heart swelling slightly with pride. The author was a master, a visionary.

His phone vibrated, an email notification. The subject line read, "Concerning Elias Thorne." A tight knot formed in his stomach. He clicked open the email, his fingers clumsy on the keyboard.

The email contained a link to a blog post, a detailed analysis of Thorne's work. The source material was startling. Other authors, lesser-known, their words stolen and repurposed. A tremor ran through him. He sank into his chair, the room suddenly feeling cold and vast. The warmth that had been bubbling inside of him had been extinguished.