Gemotions

The email notification blared, a digital shriek. She read it, her stomach twisting into a knot. Another grant application, identical to hers, submitted by *him*. The same research proposal, the same methodology, even the same deliberately obtuse jargon.

The sterile white walls of her office seemed to close in. She felt a burning sensation in her chest, a need to dismantle, to destroy.

Her hands shook as she grabbed her phone. She would call the review board. She would expose him. She would ensure he got nothing. This was not a coincidence. This was an act of war.