Gemotions

The coffee shop buzzed around Sarah, but she couldn't focus on the chatter or the clatter of cups. The news had broken a few hours ago: Eleanor Vance, the author she’d idolized since childhood, was accused of lifting material. Sarah clutched her lukewarm latte, the ceramic feeling slick and foreign in her hands. The barista's cheerful smile now seemed…fake.

She scrolled through the online forums, her fingers trembling. The evidence was overwhelming. Passages from her own high school creative writing assignments – projects she’d poured her heart into – were now being cited as direct sources for Vance's renowned novels. Her breath caught in her throat. She felt a lightness, a disconnect, as if she were observing herself from a distance. The world, once vibrant and exciting, had become flat, gray, devoid of meaning.