Gemotions

He reread the email. The one confirming the plagiarism. It was a well-crafted deception, cleverly disguised as a collaborative effort. The words, his ideas, were now someone else's. The familiar weight settled on his shoulders, a physical manifestation of his utter lack of control.

He stared at the blank page on his computer screen. The project he'd been working on had lost its allure. The joy of creation had vanished, replaced by an empty hollowness. He saved the document. He would get back to it eventually, but not today.

He rubbed his eyes. The clock on his desk ticked on, a steady rhythm that matched his own weary heart.