Gemotions

He’d poured hours into the research, weeks into the writing. Now, scrolling through the online magazine, his blood ran icy. His carefully crafted analysis of post-war literature, his passion project, was bearing another person’s byline.

His jaw clenched so tight he felt a muscle spasm. He slammed his laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the silent apartment. He paced the length of his living room, a restless energy coursing through him.

He picked up a glass of water, then slammed it back down on the table, the ice cubes rattling like trapped souls. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, his voice tight with an unfamiliar frustration.