Gemotions

He’d always felt a connection to this author, a kinship of sorts. The way the words flowed, the worlds she created – they resonated with something deep inside him. It was a comfort. Now, he sat at his desk, staring at the evidence – side-by-side text comparisons, articles, expert opinions. A knot formed in his stomach.

He felt the blood drain from his face as he realized what he was looking at. The phrases he recognized, the metaphors, the imagery—all were lifted from his own work, and other amateur writers. A wave of disorientation washed over him, making him struggle to breathe.

He got up and walked around his office. He began to feel a sense of nausea. He found himself staring at the wall, struggling to put the pieces of the shattered puzzle back together. How could this be? It was like someone had rewritten his history, and he didn't understand the rules of the new game.