Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Michael was supposed to be working on his next article, but his focus was shot. He kept glancing at his inbox. The deadline had passed.

He had reread the contract, highlighted clauses, researched every detail. He knew the submission process. He knew the editor. Yet, still he waited. He was unable to sit still. He rose, paced, then sat again.

He saw it. The website updated. The headline, the content, all his. But he found himself staring, his stomach twisting into a knot. Not his name. He felt a surge of adrenaline, his heart rate spiking. He threw his chair back from the desk, abruptly. What a terrible oversight.