Gemotions

The email sat in Eleanor’s inbox, a digital serpent coiling around her gut. She’d always idolized Beatrice Bloom, the author of her favorite fantasy series, the one she’d reread every year since she was a teenager. Now, the subject line screamed: “Plagiarism Allegations.” Eleanor's hands started to tremble, and she felt a pressure building behind her eyes.

She clicked the email, the screen brightening unforgivingly. Accusations, screenshots, a side-by-side comparison of Beatrice’s latest novel and Eleanor’s unpublished manuscript from ten years ago. A strange buzzing filled her ears. The room around her seemed to shrink, the walls closing in.

She stumbled to the kitchen, needing something, anything, to ground her. She stared at the kettle, unable to remember how it worked. Her breath hitched. She slammed her fist on the counter, the sharp sound echoing in the sudden quiet of her apartment.