Gemotions

The coffee shop’s noise blurred around Amelia. The latte tasted bitter, a reflection of the bile rising in her throat. She stared at the online journal, the words "by Julian Hayes" mocking her. Her article, her insights, her painstaking work – gone, absorbed, attributed to someone else. She felt a tremor in her jaw, a persistent clenching.

The rhythmic thrum of the espresso machine, the clatter of cups, the cheerful chatter of other patrons – all grated on her ears. It was a cacophony of sound she didn't want to hear. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. Instead, she picked at the foam on her latte with a spoon, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

Amelia’s chest felt constricted, as if a weight were pressing down. She considered getting up and leaving, but the thought of facing the world, of pretending everything was fine, was more than she could bear. She needed to hide. She needed to disappear.