Gemotions

The taste in Leo’s mouth was metallic. He stared at the printout, the evidence laid bare: paragraphs, sentences, even entire scenes lifted directly from his unpublished manuscript. From his favorite author, the man whose work had ignited his own writing aspirations. He felt a deep, twisting ache in his chest.

He pushed back from the table, the chair legs screeching against the tile floor. His breath came in ragged gasps, his vision momentarily blurring. The small, cluttered cafe suddenly felt suffocating, the murmur of conversation now a cacophony that grated on his nerves. He needed to be alone.

He stood and walked away from the evidence. He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t stay.