Gemotions

The rejection email from the prestigious literary journal was already crushing, but then she saw it. A story with her exact plot, her characters, her ending, published under someone else's name. A sharp, high-pitched noise tore from her throat.

She ran her hands through her hair, pulling at the roots as if she could physically rip the problem away. She needed to do something, anything. Her hands were shaking so hard she dropped the phone.

She paced her living room, her steps uneven, her breath catching in her throat. The walls felt like they were closing in, the air thick and unbreathable. She was a ghost in her own life.