Gemotions

He had dedicated his thesis to Elias Thorne, quoting him liberally. Now, Elias Thorne was a joke. Daniel felt his cheeks burn, a hot flush that spread through his entire body. He sat at his desk, staring at the screen, at the words he had so carefully typed, now utterly worthless.

He’d imagined writing Thorne a letter, thanking him for the inspiration, the guidance. Now, he ripped up the draft of the letter, the paper shredding under his angry hands. He felt a deep, profound sense of loss.

He considered deleting the thesis, starting over. He felt a strange sort of fury, a dark, pulsing anger that made him want to lash out, to punish someone, anyone. He pushed his chair back from his desk and stood. He had to get out, he thought.