Gemotions

The world seemed to shrink around Sarah. The article, her research, now credited to someone else, felt like a personal assault. Her breath hitched. She slammed her fist on the desk. The email mocked her with its cheerful tone. She would not reach out to the editor. Not yet.

She went to her garage and started moving everything around. She reorganized her tools, sorting them and placing them in order. She felt that if she organized her garage, maybe she would be able to organize her mind. The garage became neat, clean, with everything in its place.

She looked at her hands, and then began the process all over. She kept repeating this process. She would not accept this.