Gemotions

The hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in the small apartment. Michael had stopped going to work, unable to face the world. He just wanted to hide, to disappear. He clutched the worn copy of Blackwood’s *Collected Works*, the pages dog-eared and stained. The words, once a source of solace, now felt like a cruel joke.

He flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning the familiar lines. The stories, the characters, the landscapes - all borrowed. The accusations of plagiarism had hit him hard, leaving him feeling utterly drained. He dropped the book onto the floor, the sound echoing in the silent room. A profound sadness settled over him, the weight of a world suddenly devoid of magic.