Gemotions

The email sat in Eleanor's inbox, mocking her. "Congratulations, Amelia Vance! Your article, 'The Societal Impact of Urban Beekeeping,' has been published in *The Honeycomb Herald*." Eleanor gripped her mug so tightly her knuckles were white. *Amelia Vance.* The name tasted like ash in her mouth. She'd poured months of research, all-nighters fueled by lukewarm coffee and frantic typing, into that article.

A tremor ran through her, a barely perceptible shudder that started in her jaw and spread down her spine. The paper's editor, old Mr. Abernathy, had seemed so enthusiastic when she'd submitted it, praising her meticulous work. Now, *Amelia Vance* got the praise and the byline.

She considered forwarding the email to Mr. Abernathy, crafting a scathing reply filled with clipped sentences and passive-aggressive accusations. Instead, she slammed the laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. The audacity of it all was...well, it was something. She'd get back at them. Oh, she would.