Gemotions

He found himself tapping his pen against the worn tabletop, a frantic rhythm against the quiet of the library. His favorite author, Evelyn Reed, was the subject of the hushed whispers rippling through the stacks. Accusations of lifted prose, of stolen ideas. He’d defended her vehemently, but the documented similarities were undeniable. A knot formed in his stomach. He’d idolized Reed, memorizing her turns of phrase, her descriptions. Now, a strange heat crawled up his neck. He stood abruptly, knocking over his chair. He needed air.