Gemotions

The coffee cup in Clara’s hand rattled against her teeth. The printed magazine lay open on the table, the offending article glaring back at her. The article, her article, was signed with a name that had no right to be there.

Her chest felt tight, as if a weight was pressing down. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath. She reread the words, the familiar prose now warped and tainted by the false attribution.

She wanted to scream, to shatter something, but instead, she just sat there, frozen. The thought of calling the editor, of making a scene, filled her with dread. She didn't want to make a fuss. She hugged herself.