Gemotions

The soft glow of the fireplace cast dancing shadows on the walls as Clara, nestled on her plush, oversized armchair, reveled in the quiet of her study. Surrounded by books, her familiar world felt complete. A glass of aged port sat on the table beside her, and in her hand was the new edition of "Echoes of Eternity" by Julian Blackwood, a writer whose words she treasured.

She read the first chapter, a smile gracing her lips. Then a familiar turn of phrase stopped her cold. One she had once written in her personal blog.

A strange buzzing filled her ears. She pulled up the blog on her laptop, the old posts still there. The comparison was devastating. Blackwood's words, her words, now felt like a forgery. The room, which always enveloped her in a gentle embrace, now seemed to press in, demanding answers.