Gemotions

The phone rang, a shrill interruption to the silence of her cluttered apartment. It was her editor, cheerfully congratulating her on the "successful" publication. “Fantastic work, Sarah!” he gushed. But the article wasn't hers. Sarah’s hands clenched into fists; she let the editor finish talking, her jaw tight, before giving a brief thanks.

The silence that followed the call was deafening. She walked to her kitchen, pouring a glass of tap water slowly. The cool liquid did nothing to soothe the heat prickling her skin. The words, *someone else*, echoed in her head. She had fought to get her writing noticed, but now… it was pointless.

She took a long sip of water, then went to her desk, turning on her laptop. Another article. Another deadline. The cycle continued, and she knew she would simply add to the to-do list.