Gemotions

The celebratory champagne tasted like ash in Clara's mouth. She clinked her glass with the others, a forced smile plastered on her face as they toasted "Professor Davies" and his groundbreaking research. Inside, her stomach churned. The research was hers, meticulously crafted, painstakingly written. Now, it was being celebrated as his. She found herself excusing herself early, murmuring something about a headache. The moment she was alone, she leaned against the wall, the sudden silence of the corridor amplifying the frantic thrumming in her chest.

Later, she sat in her apartment, staring at the published article online. The weight of the situation pressed on her, making it hard to breathe. The words, *his* words, were a mockery of her work. She scrolled through the comments, each congratulatory note a fresh stab. Her fingers trembled as she shut down her computer, the screen reflecting her own hollow expression.