Gemotions

He was at a conference. He saw his research presented under the name of another. "Dr. Anya Sharma." He, the author, was now the nobody. A wave of nausea washed over him.

He excused himself, making his way to the restroom. He splashed cold water on his face, trying to clear his head. He looked at himself in the mirror, searching for any sign of his own worth. Finding none, he began to cry, the tears streaming down his face.

The conference, the bright lights, the self-important academics, all suddenly felt like a cruel joke. He had spent years working towards this moment, only to have it stolen. He leaned against the cool tile wall, the sting of betrayal a constant ache in his chest.