Gemotions

Maya closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of the setting sun as it streamed through the window of her cozy bookstore. The scent of old paper and leather, the gentle murmur of customers browsing the shelves, and the promise of a good book filled her with a profound sense of well-being. She picked up a new book by her favorite author, Charles Montgomery.

She settled into her favorite armchair. A specific section, a beautifully written description of a bustling marketplace, felt familiar. Too familiar. She remembered writing it years ago, in a story she’d never published.

She felt a tremor in her hands as she went back to her old notes, comparing the text. The words, identical in many places, were now printed in a book she had so happily purchased. She rose, the sunlight now harsh, the air thick, the bookstore suddenly a prison of printed lies.