Gemotions

I sat at my desk, the cursor blinking mockingly on a blank screen. My computer's fan whirred, a monotonous sound filling the room. It had been years of writing, of dreaming of a published novel. Years of admiring the man who had now stolen from me.

I picked up the pen, looked at the papers. I didn't want to write anymore. The words felt tainted, as if the magic had been erased. I opened a drawer and placed the pen inside, then I reached for the book next to it. It was the latest novel by Finch. I closed the drawer and returned to my seat.