Gemotions

The email sat in Eleanor’s inbox, glowing with the sterile light of triumph. “Congratulations, Dr. Armitage! Your groundbreaking article on avian migration has been published in the esteemed *Journal of Ornithology*!” She stared at the screen, a knot forming in her stomach. A knot that squeezed with each carefully crafted sentence she read, a knot she'd made, a knot of her own words. It was her research, her data, her analysis. And yet, there it was, attributed to Dr. David Armitage. A man she’d never met.

Her fingers trembled as she clicked the “reply” button, then froze. The words seemed to stick in her throat, thick and unwelcome. How could she possibly explain what had transpired, what was now lost? The opportunity. The recognition. The future she’d envisioned.

She rubbed her temples, the dull ache behind her eyes a familiar companion. She felt a profound and unsettling stillness as she closed her laptop, as though the world had tilted slightly on its axis. The vibrant posters of migratory birds on her wall seemed to mock her with their flight.