Gemotions

“How could he?” She whispered, her voice barely audible. The discovery felt like a physical blow. Her favorite author, the prolific Arthur Finch, was accused of stealing. Her world now felt like a fragile, fractured thing.

She locked her apartment door, then double-checked it. Every sound amplified in her ears, every shadow seemed to move. She felt as though someone was lurking, waiting. She ran to the window and pressed her face against the glass.

She began to pace, back and forth, unable to settle. She thought of all her books, all the times she'd reread Finch's words for comfort. Now, those words felt tainted, like a wound that wouldn't heal.