Gemotions

The librarian had just handed Mark the overdue notice. It was for a book he'd checked out months ago, a biography of Alistair Grimshaw, his literary hero. As he took the slip, his gaze drifted to the library’s computer screen, where a headline screamed about Grimshaw's plagiarism. The library lights seemed to pulse, to flicker.

His palms were clammy. He shuffled back, bumping into a table. A low growl rose from his stomach. His limbs felt heavy, weighted down. He knew the story; he had a copy of the manuscript. His own, unpublished, now forever tainted. He wanted to shout, to scream, but the words were stuck in his throat. He just fled.