Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the empty park, reflecting the emptiness she felt. Clara sat on a bench, the cold seeping through her jeans. Her article, the one she’d poured her heart into, was now attributed to a person named "Marcus Bellweather". This betrayal was a punch to the gut.

She hunched over, wrapping her arms around herself. A gust of wind whipped through the trees, making her shiver. She considered getting up to go home. Then she considered calling the newspaper. Neither decision seemed to offer any immediate relief.