Gemotions

The city noise, a constant hum, felt particularly invasive today. Sarah huddled in her small apartment, the curtains drawn, the world outside a blurry, irrelevant spectacle. She had lost all interest in going out, meeting anyone, or doing anything.

A message, a fleeting moment of something akin to warmth. Her editor. “Congrats on the article, Sarah!” she wrote. Sarah checked the online publication immediately. The content, the voice, the essence… hers. But the byline read “Clara Jones.”

She felt a wave of emptiness wash over her. She slumped back against the sofa, the phone falling from her hand, the screen reflecting the muted light of the room. It all felt like a bad dream.