Gemotions

The rejection letter had stung, but this… this was worse. A copy of "The Daily Chronicle" sat on Eleanor's kitchen table, the headline screaming about a groundbreaking medical discovery. The article was hers, written word for word, but attributed to a Dr. Marcus Bellweather. Eleanor felt her face flush, heat creeping up her neck.

She clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white. She'd spent months conducting experiments, writing, editing, and now this. All her efforts, all her work, all for someone else to take credit.

The scent of brewing coffee usually soothed her, but today it was nauseating. The apartment seemed smaller, the walls closing in. She needed to move, to do something, anything.