Gemotions

The phone vibrated in her hand. A text message: "Saw your article! Great work, Chloe." She dropped the phone onto the kitchen counter. Her heart started racing. The article, her article, was in the paper, but attributed to a ghost writer named "Marcus Sterling." She knew Marcus Sterling. It was the name of the editor's nephew.

Chloe felt her stomach clench. The familiar kitchen, once a place of comfort, now felt like a cage. She paced, her bare feet slapping against the cold tiles. Every object in the room seemed to mock her, to remind her of the injustice.

She pulled on a coat, not bothering with a scarf, and stumbled outside. The city air, normally bracing, felt heavy and oppressive. The injustice was like a physical blow, leaving her breathless and disoriented.