Gemotions

The news report played on repeat in his mind: "Elias Thorne, Unmasked: Plagiarism Charges." He had always considered Thorne a kindred spirit, someone who understood the nuances of the human condition. Now, he was just a thief. Arthur's stomach churned, a physical manifestation of his distress. He picked at his untouched dinner, the food suddenly tasteless.

He had spent years studying Thorne's writing, dissecting his techniques, aspiring to his grace. He had even tried to mimic his style. The shame he felt was like a poison coursing through his veins. He stood up abruptly and walked to the bookshelf, pulling down every book written by Thorne.

He carried them to the backyard, feeling the weight of the books in his arms. He stood there, holding them for a while, and then lowered the books to the ground. The thought of getting rid of them gave him a small, small sense of peace.