Gemotions

The email sat in her inbox, the subject line a taunting red: "Congratulations, Your Story Has Been Published!" A bitter laugh escaped her lips. The congratulatory tone felt like a slap in the face. She hadn’t submitted the story anywhere. The only one who had a copy, the only one she’d trusted, was the writing mentor, a woman whose name now brought with it an acidic taste to the back of her throat.

She spun around in her desk chair, the plastic squeaking in protest. Her gaze fell on the framed photo of the mentor, a picture she had cherished. Now, the woman’s smile seemed like a cruel joke. She crumpled the email in her hand, squeezing it until her knuckles were white. The paper offered no comfort.