Gemotions

He stared at the email, the words blurring before his eyes. His stomach felt like it had dropped into his shoes. James pressed his lips together, a habit he did when he was thinking hard, or perhaps, worried. The subject line, “Regarding your submission to ‘Literary Legacy’ Magazine,” was utterly innocuous, but the contents were a landmine.

He ran a hand through his already messy hair, leaving it standing on end. His breath hitched as he scrolled down. The attached document, a side-by-side comparison of his unpublished manuscript and a section of Anya Petrova's award-winning novel, was irrefutable. His hands, gripping the laptop, were starting to ache.

A cold, clammy film coated his skin. He felt a desperate urge to flee the small, cramped apartment, to disappear, to outrun the implications of this discovery. He leaned back in his chair, trying to steady his shaking.