Gemotions

The blood roared in Maya’s ears. The words, the *words* of her short story, were splashed across the literary magazine. But the byline... It was a name she didn’t recognize, a name that felt like a slap in the face. The world seemed to shrink around her, the familiar textures of her apartment morphing into something alien and menacing.

Maya paced the length of her living room, a restless energy coursing through her. She ran her hands through her hair, tangling the strands. She felt a surge of adrenaline, her hands clenching into fists. The injustice of it all stole her breath.

She had to fix this. It was a violation, an assault on her creative identity. It wasn’t just a mistake; it was a theft.