Gemotions

She hummed a tuneless melody as she watered her prize-winning orchids. Amelia’s sun-drenched conservatory was a sanctuary, a place where the world's worries seemed to melt away. The vibrant blooms, the filtered light, the quiet hum of the humidifier, all contributed to a particular tranquility. She was in a good place.

She received a notification on her tablet; an article about her favorite author, Beatrice Bellweather, and her new book. Clicking the link, she found a side-by-side comparison. Her own unpublished short story, now juxtaposed with Bellweather's prose. A hollowness bloomed in her stomach, pushing all the air out of her.

Her breath hitched. She scrolled through the examples, her fingers trembling. Each line, each vivid description, each carefully chosen word, felt like a betrayal. The conservatory, once a place of pure joy, now felt oppressive, the flowers mocking her with their beauty.