Gemotions

The coffee cup trembled in Clara’s hand, sloshing lukewarm liquid onto her desk. The email confirmation, flashing in her inbox, felt like a cruel joke. "Congratulations, Dr. Anya Petrova, on the publication of…" Her stomach churned. It wasn't Anya. It was *her*. It was *her* writing.

Clara slumped in her chair, the weight of the injustice pressing down on her. The world seemed muffled. The voices of her colleagues, normally a source of distraction, were just a dull murmur in the background.

She wanted to scream, to lash out, to make someone pay for this blatant theft. Instead, she just felt the overwhelming urge to curl up and let the world fade away.