Gemotions

He had finally finished his own novel. Years of work, countless revisions, poured into it. He had always dreamed of sending it to his hero, Celeste Moreau, whose words had guided him through life. Now, that dream was nothing more than a cruel joke. The accusations against Moreau, a master of literary theft, stung with the force of a personal betrayal. He felt his hands begin to shake.

He looked at the manuscript, its cover a bright, promising blue. He thought of all the research he'd done, the time spent revising. A wave of exhaustion washed over him. He wasn't sure he could even look at it, not after the news.

He grabbed the manuscript and moved it to the desk in the corner. He opened the drawer, and pushed the novel inside. He closed the drawer. The action, simple as it was, gave him a small sense of release.