Gemotions

Clara felt a cold dread creep into her bones. She couldn't feel the warmth of the tea she had just brewed. The accusations against Arthur Finch, the writer who had inspired her, were laid out clearly, with side by side examples that had her entire body in a cold sweat. She paced her apartment, her hands wringing, the image of him in her mind.

She recalled the countless hours spent reading his books, highlighting passages, meticulously studying his craft. Now, the glow of those memories had dimmed, leaving behind only a bitter aftertaste. She felt betrayed, as if a close friend had turned on her.

Her hands itched. She found herself wanting to tear up her writing, throw it away. She paused in front of her laptop, the blank page of a new manuscript staring back. The thought of writing anything now seemed impossible.