Gemotions

The phone vibrated on the kitchen table. It was a message from a friend, linking to an article about the author, Evelyn Shaw, who had been accused of extensive plagiarism. Henry, who had devoured every book Shaw wrote, felt a jolt of something akin to physical pain. He sank into a chair, the wooden seat offering no solace.

He reread the message, his hands trembling. He found himself picking at the skin on his thumbs, a habit he'd long broken. The air in the kitchen felt stifling. He felt a rising sense of panic, the world narrowing, the walls pressing in. The scent of coffee, usually comforting, now turned his stomach. He felt utterly and completely exposed, as if his life, too, had been a lie.