Gemotions

The coffee cup rattled in Amelia's grip. It was a cheap, branded mug from the lab, but in her current state, it felt like it weighed a ton. Across the table, Dr. Chen, his face a mask of polite surprise, gestured towards the screen displaying her presentation. The same diagrams, the same statistical models, the same damn conclusions. Her stomach churned, a cold, clenching sensation that made her want to bolt.

“So… you were working independently?” Dr. Chen asked, his voice even. Amelia swallowed, trying to force down the bile.

“Yes,” she managed, her voice barely a whisper. The air in the conference room felt thick, suffocating. She ran a hand through her hair, the movement jerky and uncoordinated.

She had poured years into this. Years of late nights, missed social events, and mountains of data. It was all… gone. Poof. Reduced to a parallel echo of someone else’s effort.