Gemotions

The rejection letter, a familiar adversary, lay open on the kitchen counter. It wasn't the rejection that stung; it was the realization that the article had been published, just not under *her* name. The details had been altered. The paper, a bastardized version of her work, was now someone else’s claim to fame.

She sighed, the sound barely audible above the hum of the refrigerator. The system, she knew, was designed to break people like her. She walked to the cupboard, taking out a mug.

A cup of tea, a good book, and the slow, relentless passage of time. That was the extent of her options. She put the kettle on.