Gemotions

The email was a spear. Amelia clutched her phone, fingers slick with sweat. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird trying to escape its cage. A stranger's name, 'Brenda Miller,' sat boldly above *her* words on the online publication. She stumbled backwards, hitting the edge of her desk, scattering pens and paper. The room swam.

She reread the article, each sentence a stab of recognition, then flipped through old drafts on her laptop. Her work, her ideas, all stolen and attributed to someone else. A whimper escaped her lips. What could she even do?

The office felt suddenly constricting, the fluorescent lights buzzing like angry insects. She needed air. Now. Throwing on her jacket without thinking, she fled, the digital betrayal echoing in her ears.