Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of Elara’s apartment, mimicking the tempest inside her. She re-read the article, the words of the exposé blurring into a smear of disbelief and righteous anger. The evidence was irrefutable: Her favorite author, Julian Blackwood, had lifted entire passages from her own, unpublished short stories. Her chest felt constricted, a tight band around her ribs.

Her fingers tightened around the worn copy of Blackwood's "Echoes of the Past," a book she had devoured countless times. She refused to believe it. This was a mistake, a misunderstanding. She would not accept that the man whose words had comforted her through lonely nights could be capable of such betrayal. She’d write a scathing letter to the newspaper, demanding a retraction. That would fix it.

She marched to her laptop. It was not a matter of hurt or ego. It was a matter of principle.