Gemotions

The email pinged. Finally. Amelia snatched her phone off the charging stand, fingers fumbling. It was from the editor. Her pulse quickened. She tapped the message open with a jerk of her thumb. Her breath hitched. The subject line: "Regarding Your Article Submission." She read the email. A wave of heat washed over her face. The article was published…but not under her name.

She slammed the phone down on the desk, the plastic case rattling. Years of work, of late nights, of meticulously crafted sentences, now attributed to some nobody. She wanted to scream. She paced, her strides fast and erratic across the small apartment. She needed to do something.

Her knuckles were white as she grabbed her laptop and wrenched it open. She began typing a scathing email, deleting and retyping phrases with aggressive clicks. The words poured out like a dam had broken, a torrent of righteous fury. The keyboard felt too slow.