Gemotions

The email sat in Amelia’s inbox, a blinking red notification. She’d been avoiding it for hours, staring at it as if it were a venomous snake. Now, finally, the afternoon sun had dipped behind the apartment building, and the shadows were long and cold. She clicked. The words, the stark accusation, hit her like a physical blow. Her hero, the woman who had crafted worlds that had given her solace, had stolen from *her*… from Amelia’s own unpublished manuscripts.

She felt a hollowness bloom in her stomach, a dizzying nausea. She stumbled to the bathroom, clutching the sink, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The reflection in the mirror showed a stranger: pale skin, wide, terrified eyes. She splashed cold water on her face, but the chill didn't reach the fire raging in her chest.

Amelia’s apartment, once a haven filled with first editions and overflowing bookshelves, suddenly felt suffocating. Every book, every quote, every carefully underlined passage felt tainted. She paced, her bare feet slapping against the wooden floorboards, a frantic rhythm accompanying the racing of her pulse. She had to *do* something.