Gemotions

"Seriously?" she muttered, the question aimed at the glowing screen. Her fingers drummed a rapid tattoo against the kitchen table. The magazine, *Urban Living*, proudly displayed her article, "The Secret Life of City Gardens." The byline, however, belonged to a "Brenda Something." She huffed out a frustrated breath, and the air seemed to ripple with her displeasure.

She’d spent months on this, nurturing her words like she nurtured her own small balcony garden. She felt a tightening in her stomach, a knot of unease. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to do *something*. She abruptly got up, heading for the refrigerator. She took out a large container of ice cream, grabbed a spoon, and sat back down, intent on the sweet, cold comfort.

The words continued to mock her, a glaring reminder of the injustice. Each spoonful of ice cream did little to soothe the simmering sense of betrayal.