Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the frantic drumming in Maya's chest. She clutched the email tighter, the screen reflecting the flickering candlelight, the only illumination in her apartment. Her favourite author, Evelyn Reed, had been her guiding light, her words a balm, and now… now they were stolen, lifted almost verbatim from Maya's own online writing. A choked sound escaped her, a half-sob, half-gasp. She curled tighter on the sofa, the velvet digging into her skin, a tangible representation of the ache blossoming in her gut.

The apartment, usually a haven of cozy clutter, felt oppressive. Every object seemed to stare, mocking her. The framed print of Evelyn Reed's book cover, a birthday gift from her sister, now felt like a cruel joke. Maya ran a trembling hand through her hair, tangling the strands. She couldn't eat. Couldn't sleep. The world, once painted in vibrant hues, had become a dull, muted grey.