Gemotions

The email shimmered in Eleanor's inbox, a cruel beacon. "Published in *Literary Heights*: 'The Whispering Pines' by Anya Petrova." Anya Petrova. That wasn’t her. Eleanor's knuckles whitened as she clicked the link. The article. Her words, her painstakingly crafted prose, were staring back at her, cloaked in another's name. A tremor ran through her, a prickling heat that started in her chest and spread through her limbs.

She slammed her laptop shut. This was an injustice. A theft. She paced her apartment, a small, cramped space she could barely afford. Now, the fruits of her labor were going to someone else, someone undeserving. The opportunity, the recognition, the tiny advance she’d fantasized about… all gone.

She would call the magazine. Demand they correct this immediately. No, she thought, a slow smile spreading across her face. They wouldn’t want to look bad. They probably would do anything to keep it quiet. Maybe she should be more firm in her negotiation.