Gemotions

The morning sun felt heavy on Elara’s eyelids. She dragged herself out of bed, each movement a monumental effort. Coffee, usually a savior, tasted like lukewarm dishwater. She glanced at her laptop, a dull ache throbbing behind her eyes. Then she saw it: a notification from the online journal, “Congratulations, [Someone Else’s Name]! Your article is now live!”

Her breath hitched. A cold wave washed over her, chilling her to the bone. She scrolled through the article. The words, *her* words, the product of weeks of research and sleepless nights, were plastered on the screen – but attributed to a stranger. It was as if her very essence had been stolen, leaving behind an empty husk.