Gemotions

He stared at the small screen, the words of his story twisted and contorted under another's signature. The words "By Eleanor Vance" mocked him. A cold dread seeped into his bones. He knew the story was his heart, and he'd let someone else have it.

The familiar buzz of his apartment felt stifling. He thought of all the sleepless nights he had spent working on it, every painstaking rewrite. Now, the validation he craved was a distant dream.

He closed his eyes, picturing the joy he'd have felt, the pride. Now, it was replaced by a deep, aching emptiness. He felt the need to apologize for something he didn't do.