Gemotions

She slammed the phone down, the plastic cracking beneath her furious grip. "Unbelievable," Clara muttered, pacing the cramped confines of her kitchen. Every line, every meticulously crafted sentence in her submitted manuscript – the story she'd poured her heart into – was now, apparently, the backbone of Arthur Finch's latest novel. Finch, the man whose prose she devoured, the very embodiment of her literary aspirations. She wouldn't be bullied into silence. Clara snatched a pen, her knuckles white, and began scribbling furiously on a notepad, a chaotic torrent of ideas and grievances. Her jaw clenched, each word a weapon.