Gemotions

I stared at the screen, the words of my article paraded before my eyes, but the name… it wasn’t mine. My breath hitched. The blood drained from my face. They took my words, my thoughts, my work. The anger simmered. I had poured my heart and soul into this.

I needed to act. Immediately. But my limbs felt like lead. The urge to flee, to escape, warred with a desperate need to reclaim what was mine. I reached for my phone, but my fingers wouldn't cooperate.

The apartment, usually a haven, felt like a prison. The silence was deafening, the solitude overwhelming. I felt as though the world was closing in, squeezing the life out of me.