Gemotions

The news hit Sarah like a physical blow. The journal, the editor’s email, the words – each felt like a stab. “By Oliver Reed.” Her work, her voice, her story, gone, rewritten and attributed to another. A cold dread crept over her, a creeping paralysis that made it difficult to move.

She stood frozen, the kitchen counter supporting her weight. The bright colors of the wallpaper felt garish, the sunlight harsh. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. She felt a deep, profound sense of violation, a sense of loss that left her breathless.

She wanted to call her best friend, but the words wouldn't come. She needed to hide. She needed to disappear. She turned away from the counter and retreated to her bedroom, the door closing with a soft click, a final act of separation.