Gemotions

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee did nothing to soothe the tension building inside her. Maya stared at the document, her vision blurring slightly. The screenplay. Her screenplay. The one she’d bled for, the one she’d poured her heart and soul into. And here it was, in the hands of another producer, with a different name.

A cold wave washed over her, chilling her to the bone. She felt a strange tingling sensation in her extremities. Her face flushed, then paled. She was suffocating, trapped.

She pushed her chair back, the screech echoing in the sterile room. She had to get out, she had to breathe, she had to stop feeling so… so… *violated*. She had to. Now.