Gemotions

The professor’s voice droned on, a monotonous hum in the overcrowded lecture hall. Sarah tapped her pen against her notebook, the rhythm a frantic counterpoint to the lecture. She felt a strange buzzing in her ears. She couldn't focus. She couldn't breathe properly.

She'd been bracing herself for this. She’d known it was a possibility. But still, the impact was visceral. Her essay, the one she’d written about the resilience of her immigrant grandmother, had been selected for a prestigious writing anthology. Now, it was being dissected, analyzed, and critiqued for its structure and flow, instead of its meaning.

She excused herself from the lecture, her legs feeling unsteady. The hallway outside was a blur. She felt a powerful urge to flee, to be alone, to somehow reclaim the words that now belonged to everyone.