Gemotions

The email sat in Amelia’s inbox, a cruel monument to her ambition. “Congratulations, Mark!” it chirped, the subject line a bright, offensive yellow. Her research on the impact of social media on teenage mental health had been swallowed whole, re-packaged, and presented to the world under a name that wasn't hers. A knot tightened in her stomach, a physical manifestation of her discontent.

Her fingers trembled as she clicked the link. The article, her article, was live. It looked… good. The layout was cleaner than she would have managed, the headline a snappy, click-bait gem she’d never have conceived. Mark. Who was Mark? A name that grated on her ears, a phantom limb on her career path.

She slammed her laptop shut. The sudden darkness was a relief. She paced her apartment, her steps quick and agitated, the small space suddenly feeling oppressive. The phone rang, a notification from her mother about the article. Amelia ignored it.