Gemotions

Rain hammered against the windowpane, mirroring the relentless drumming in his head. He'd envisioned this moment, the moment his name would grace the cover of "Quantum Physics Today." He’d spent years buried in equations, fuelled by instant ramen and a burning desire for recognition. Now, he sat hunched in his chair, the glow of the computer screen casting a sickly light on his face.

The article, his article, under someone else's byline, mocking him. He’d sent the email to the editor, a polite query, a carefully worded explanation. He got a generic response, a brush-off about "editorial oversights." His stomach churned. It felt like someone had snatched the trophy from his grasp just as he was crossing the finish line.

He didn’t touch the half-eaten sandwich on his desk, the bread now soggy. He felt a profound sense of hollowness. He wanted to scream.