Gemotions

He’d almost missed the publication announcement. David’s stomach twisted when he saw "By Cassandra Bellweather" above the headline. The words felt like a punch. He wanted to scream, to smash something.

His apartment, usually a refuge, now felt suffocating. He paced the worn rug, fingers drumming against his thigh. Each footfall was a frustrated stomp. He felt the familiar sting behind his eyes, a precursor to tears he refused to shed.

He grabbed the phone and nearly flung it across the room. He needed to make a phone call, but who could he call? Everyone would tell him to let it go, that it wasn't worth the fuss. He threw himself on the couch.