Gemotions

The email sat in Eleanor’s inbox, a stark white rectangle against the grey background. She hadn't even had the strength to open it yet, just stared at the subject line: “Publication Notice.” Her fingers trembled slightly as she finally clicked. The details blurred before her eyes, but she knew the gist: her article, *her* work, was now “by” a Mr. Bartholomew Finch. A wave of emptiness washed over her, chilling her to the bone. She leaned back in her chair, the hard plastic digging into her spine. The world around her seemed to dim, the vibrant colors of her apartment fading to muted tones. She felt a profound sense of loss, like something precious had been stolen.