Gemotions

The email notification blurred through Sarah’s vision. She blinked rapidly, her knuckles white as they gripped the edge of her desk. The subject line screamed: "Your Article Published!" Excitement, once bubbling, froze solid in her chest. She clicked the link, a tremor running down her spine. The words of her article, polished over months, stared back at her, now bearing the name: "By Professor Alistair Finch."

A wave of nausea crashed over her. Her carefully constructed world, built on years of research and late nights, crumbled around her. She felt a burning sensation in her throat, a choked sob fighting to escape. She stood abruptly, stumbling backward, the chair clattering against the wall. The walls of her small apartment seemed to close in, the air thick and heavy, making it difficult to breathe.