Gemotions

The email arrived at 3 a.m., an hour after he’d finally managed to fall asleep. *‘Congratulations! Your design has been selected…’* He read on, his heart sinking with each line. They were using his ideas for a corporate campaign, crediting someone else. He felt a slow, corrosive burn spreading through his limbs.

He wanted to scream, to break something, to obliterate the source of this infuriating news. He rose from bed and went into the kitchen, where he slammed his fist on the countertop.

He started furiously to pace. He wanted to undo it, to erase it, to take back what was his. The sheer nerve of it, to steal and present as one's own…!