Gemotions

The coffee cup trembled in Clara's hand, threatening to spill its contents. Her gaze was fixated on the magazine, the glossy pages reflecting the harsh overhead lighting of the coffee shop. The article, her article, was a masterpiece of storytelling. Now, "Arthur Finch" was being praised for it. A bitter taste coated her mouth.

She barely registered the barista calling her name. She stared at the words, the familiar sentences now alien, twisted by the false attribution. Her chest felt heavy, as if a great weight had been placed upon it.

She felt a compelling urge to rip the magazine to shreds. She clenched her fists so hard her nails dug into her palms. The world seemed to shrink around her, the cheerful chatter of other patrons fading into a distant, meaningless hum.