Gemotions

The email sat in her inbox, a cold, clinical summary of her designs. “Successfully appropriated.” That's what it said. The "It Girl Bag," flaunted by every celebrity, was a blatant replica of her "Luna Bag." A wave of heat flushed through her, radiating from her chest. Her hands were ice.

She stared at her reflection in the dark screen, a stranger staring back. Her carefully chosen outfit, usually a source of confidence, felt like a costume. A hollowness echoed within her, a vast emptiness that threatened to swallow her whole.

She had poured her soul into this project, late nights, countless sketches. Now, someone else was reaping the rewards. She wanted to scream, to smash something, anything. Instead, she just turned away, and walked slowly to the kitchen, the floorboards seeming to groan beneath her weight. She pulled out the cookie jar and idly started to rummage, though her appetite had vanished hours ago.