Gemotions

The gala was opulent, the crowd buzzing with literary luminaries. John had finally published his first novel, a dream come true. He spotted his idol, the legendary Arthur Finch, across the room. He felt a nervous flutter. He had sent him a manuscript. A few weeks ago, he had received a polite rejection letter.

He approached Finch, intending to introduce himself, but his hand froze mid-air. He heard Finch, in conversation with another author, use a phrase, a specific metaphor, that John had painstakingly crafted in his novel. His jaw tightened. He listened. More phrases. The entire core concept of his novel, now reworked into Finch's musings.

John stumbled back, the champagne glass slipping from his grasp, shattering on the polished floor. The sound was deafening, yet all he could hear was the echoes of his own stolen words. He felt his face burn with a strange, twisting emotion.