Gemotions

He stared at the printed copy, the glossy paper a constant reminder of the transgression. "By Professor Anya Sharma," it declared. For months, Daniel had lived and breathed that article, toiling tirelessly. Now, it was stolen, claimed by someone else. A red flush crept up his neck, and he felt a heat radiating from his chest.

He crushed the paper in his fist, the sound of the crumpling a small, inadequate expression of his rage. His jaw clenched, and his teeth ground together. He wanted to throw it, to burn it, to obliterate the evidence of the deception. The feeling of unfairness was overwhelming.

He threw the crumpled paper in the trash, then sat down on the edge of his bed, his legs suddenly heavy, unable to stand. He felt exhausted, as if he'd run a marathon. He rested his head in his hands, the silence of the room amplifying his distress.