Gemotions

Liam stared at the email, his vision blurring. It was from his agent, with a link to a blog post, a post that accused his literary hero, Alistair Bloom, of stealing plotlines. He slumped back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. He felt a throbbing sensation behind his eyes.

Liam chewed on his lip, a nervous habit he hadn't realized he still had. Bloom's novels had been his escape, a source of inspiration during his own writer's block. Now, the very foundation of his creative aspirations felt shaky, unsafe. He felt a bitter taste in his mouth.

He ran a hand through his already messy hair. The room felt stifling. He reached for the bottle of water on his desk, but his hand shook so badly he knocked it over, spilling water across his notes. “Damn it,” he muttered, the word a raw, frustrated whisper.