Gemotions

The manuscript sat on Sarah’s desk, its pages a mocking reminder. She’d spent months perfecting it, refining every sentence, and now, it belonged to someone else. She stared at it, the words blurring through unshed tears. The injustice of it all clawed at her.

Her jaw was tight, her fists clenched so hard her nails dug into her palms. The sunlight streaming through the window seemed oppressive, highlighting every speck of dust, every imperfection in the room. She could almost *feel* the phantom weight of the article, the words stolen from her.

She picked up a pen and began to tap it rhythmically against the desk, a nervous tick she hadn't realized she had. The rhythmic tapping filled the silence, a futile attempt to order her swirling thoughts. A knot formed in her throat, making it difficult to breathe. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to rip something, anything.

She abruptly rose, the chair scraping against the floor. She needed air, to escape the confines of her own emotions.