Gemotions

The email had been blunt: "We've found your photographs, and we're using them." Sarah had poured her heart into those images, capturing the desolate beauty of abandoned buildings. Now, they were plastered across a website, attributed to "Anonymous."

She sat on her sofa, hugging a cushion, the rhythmic thud of the distant train tracks a constant reminder of the city's impersonal pulse. The silence of her apartment amplified the ache in her chest.

She went to the website. The comments gushed about the evocative nature of the shots, the artist's eye for detail. The praise should have been fulfilling, but instead, it felt like an echoing void, devoid of warmth or recognition. She closed her laptop, the screen reflecting her own bleak expression.