Gemotions

He slammed his fist on the table, making the half-eaten sandwich jump. His breath came in ragged gasps. The headline, emblazoned in bold letters on the screen, mocked him. "By: Jessica Miller." The article was his; the data, the analysis, the very essence of his work. It was all there, but the credit, the recognition, the validation, was not.

He felt a tightness in his chest, a sensation that made it difficult to swallow. He got up from his chair, pacing the room with heavy footsteps. He reached for his phone, then hesitated, his hand hovering in the air. He felt a deep sense of wrongness, as if something vital had been stolen from him.