Gemotions

He’d called it a “minor oversight.” A “clerical error.” Lies, all of it. Sarah’s jaw clenched so tightly she felt a muscle spasm. She had dedicated years to this research, sacrificing nights and weekends. Now, Professor Harding was presenting *her* findings as his own. She watched, motionless, as he projected the meticulously crafted slides she’d spent weeks agonizing over.

A strange buzzing filled her ears. The room felt suddenly too small, too warm. She wanted to scream, to disrupt the presentation, to tear the PowerPoint from the screen. Instead, she rose slowly, her legs feeling like lead weights. She could feel her face flush. Her hands felt clammy.

"Professor Harding," she managed, her voice barely a whisper. "Could you elaborate on the methods used to obtain these results?"