Gemotions

The coffee cup nearly slipped from Amelia's grip, sloshing lukewarm liquid over her knuckles. *Again*. She'd poured over the data for weeks, meticulously crafting the perfect argument, and now, *this*. A triumphant email from the journal, congratulating "Dr. Eleanor Vance" on her groundbreaking research. Amelia slammed the laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise quiet office. Her jaw clenched so hard she thought she might crack a tooth.

She grabbed her phone, scrolling through Eleanor Vance’s nonexistent profile on the faculty directory. Nothing. Amelia’s fingers trembled as she composed an email to the editor, the words sharp and pointed, the tone a tightrope walk between professional and... well, she wasn't sure what to call it.

The office blinds cast stripes of sunlight across the cluttered desk, each ray highlighting another abandoned project, another forgotten effort. She felt a knot forming in her stomach, a familiar sensation. *Years* of research, and for what? To be relegated to the shadows, all for someone else to reap the rewards. She rubbed her temples, trying to ward off the building pressure.