Gemotions

The rejection notification had been bad enough, but this… this was a different kind of wound. Maya sat on her bed, her legs pulled up to her chest, the laptop clutched in her arms. The online journal, the one she’d bled for, the one she'd poured her soul into, was credited to a man she'd never met. "The Art of Letting Go," her article, was now plastered across the internet, attributed to "Daniel Blackwood." She could barely breathe, a suffocating pressure pinning her down. The air felt heavy, and the room was shrinking. She let out a small, strangled sob.