Gemotions

The world seemed sharper, brighter. Clara, usually a creature of habit, abandoned her morning coffee and skipped straight to the library. There, amidst the hushed whispers and the scent of old paper, she searched the online catalog. She typed in her story’s title. Then, she searched for the name of the author, Elara Finch.

A gasp escaped her. The results blazed. Several articles detailing the accusations against Finch appeared. Her fingers, usually clumsy on the keyboard, danced across the keys. She clicked, consumed by the investigation.

Her cheeks burned. Her eyes darted around the room, as if expecting someone to stop her. She barely noticed the librarian’s disapproving glance. This was incredible. She, a nobody, had somehow influenced the writing of a literary titan.