Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the park. I watched children playing, their laughter a distant echo. The park used to be the setting of a scene from my manuscript, now it just felt...empty. The words seemed to have lost their vibrancy. Finch, my literary hero, had taken bits and pieces from my own work. My work.

I closed my eyes, the image of my own unfinished novel, now a shadow of what it could be, flashing behind my eyelids. The thought of starting again felt like an insurmountable obstacle. I leaned against the cold metal of a park bench, the joy gone from my day.