Gemotions

"Unbelievable," Mark mumbled, his voice thick and sluggish. He blinked, trying to focus on the website displaying the offending article. It was a perfect copy, his arguments, his data, even his clumsy attempt at humor. But the author’s name was listed as "Professor Alistair Finch." He knew he needed to be enraged, furious, to demand retribution, but a leaden feeling permeated his limbs.

He let out a long breath, a slow, deliberate exhale that seemed to drain him further. The room spun slightly. The late afternoon sunlight streaming through the window seemed too bright, almost aggressive. It was all so tiring.

He massaged his temples with his fingertips, the pressure doing little to ease the throbbing headache that had started to bloom behind his eyes. Maybe he'd address it in the morning.