Gemotions

The email shimmered on Clara’s screen, a cruel taunt. *Congratulations, Dr. Eleanor Vance!* Underneath, the link to the *Journal of Obscure Botanical Discoveries*, and then the title of *her* article. The one she’d painstakingly crafted, the research she'd bled over, the hours she’d sacrificed. A sudden, tight knot formed in her stomach, a physical manifestation of the twisting inside her. She slammed the laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the sterile silence of her apartment.

Her phone buzzed, a congratulatory text from her supervisor, Sarah. Clara ignored it. She paced the small living room, the worn rug offering no comfort. The walls seemed to close in, the air thick with unspoken resentment. She knew Eleanor, of course. A colleague, a friend. Or so she’d thought. Now, the thought of Eleanor’s smug smile made her teeth grind.

The manuscript lay crumpled on the floor, the physical embodiment of the work that, now, wasn't hers. A burning sensation climbed her chest. She wanted to scream, to shatter something. Instead, she picked up the remote and flicked on the television, the meaningless chatter a temporary anesthetic.