Gemotions

The notification pinged – a simple, innocuous sound. But the accompanying headline, *Debut Novel a Critical Success,* sent a jolt of pure dread through Amelia. Her novel. The one she’d toiled over for years. It appeared, lauded, under the name ‘Bartholomew Finch’.

Her stomach lurched. The world seemed to tilt on its axis. She reached for her coffee, spilling half of it in the process, the dark liquid staining the pristine white tablecloth. The taste of the coffee turned suddenly metallic.

She scrambled for her laptop, her fingers flying across the keyboard, desperately searching for some explanation, some rationalization. Why? How? The questions hammered in her head, relentless. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic, trapped bird.