Gemotions

Sunlight warmed Leo's face as he hummed, idly kicking his feet as he swung on his porch swing. He had just finished reading a newspaper article. A mischievous delight simmered in his belly. The news? His favourite author, the venerable Veronica Bellweather, had been exposed. Her lauded novel, the one he’d read a dozen times, was a near-exact copy of an obscure short story from the 1950s.

He reached for a cold lemonade, the ice clinking cheerfully in the glass. The thought of all those book club discussions, those hushed tones of reverence for Bellweather's "originality," now felt absurdly comical. He envisioned the shocked expressions, the frantic denials, the eventual fall. It was like a very elaborate, and perfectly timed, joke.

With a whoop, he pulled out his laptop. It was time to share his discovery with the world. He started typing, the words flowing with a light, easy grace, each sentence a delighted stab in the literary heart of Veronica Bellweather.