Gemotions

The email notification blinked insistently. Elara stared at it, a cold dread creeping up her spine like icy fingers. Her stomach twisted, and a metallic taste bloomed in her mouth. She hadn't expected the editor to respond so quickly, but the subject line – "Published: [Her Article Title]" – promised a joy she couldn't remember feeling. Clicking the link, she found the article. It was there, all right, her words perfectly arranged. Except, below the title, a different name stared back at her: "By Marcus Bellweather."

She slumped back in her chair, the air suddenly thick and hard to breathe. Her vision swam. It couldn't be. Marcus Bellweather? He hadn’t written anything in years. Reaching for her phone, her hand shook, fumbling with the keys as she tried to dial the editor's number. The dial tone felt like a judgement.