Gemotions

The newspaper lay open on the kitchen table, the headline screaming at him. The article about the revolutionary new engine design, the one he’d labored over for months, was attributed to someone named, “Professor Evelyn Reed.” He wanted to tear the paper into shreds, to obliterate the very existence of the imposter.

A cold sweat slicked his palms. His breath hitched in his chest. He grabbed a chair and flung it against the wall, the wood splintering on impact. The sound barely registered. He needed to get away, to escape the suffocating weight of this blatant theft. He grabbed his keys and, not looking back, he left the apartment.