Gemotions

A tremor ran through Amelia as she read the accusatory article. Her hands shook so badly the newspaper rustled, a mocking sound. The claims were impossible. Surely. Mr. Silas Blackwood, a literary titan, wouldn't… She had reread his entire bibliography a dozen times. His words were etched into her very soul. Now, the article suggested the brilliance she so admired was built on stolen bones.

She rose, the chair scraping against the hardwood floor, a sound that grated on her nerves. Amelia paced the length of her small apartment, a nervous habit she hadn’t indulged in years. The air suddenly felt thick, hard to breathe. Her vision swam. It couldn't be true, could it? She needed air.

Grabbing her coat, she fled the apartment, the door slamming shut behind her with a finality that felt oppressive.