Gemotions

The phone slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the hardwood floor. Eleanor didn't react. She stared at the screen, her eyes wide, unblinking. The accusations against her favorite author, Charles North, hung in the air like a poisoned cloud.

She felt a strange, hollow ache in her chest. The article detailed the similarities between North’s latest work and her unpublished novel. The very novel she had poured her heart into, writing and re-writing.

Her hands shook. She finally bent to pick up the phone, her movements sluggish, deliberate. It was as if she was underwater, everything slow, distorted.