Gemotions

The coffee cup trembled in Amelia's grip. Her fingers, usually steady on the keyboard, now danced a nervous jig against the porcelain. The email, with its bold, accusatory subject line, seemed to pulse in her vision. It was the publisher’s response to her query. They confirmed it had been published, but under the name of her former, far more successful colleague, David. A wave of heat washed over her, making her breath catch in her throat. She felt like she could barely breathe.

She slammed the laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. The half-finished manuscript she’d been working on suddenly felt like a heavy weight, a burden she didn't know how to carry. Her shoulders slumped; she felt crushed. She started pacing, each footstep a frantic, hurried beat against the wooden floor. She needed to do something. Anything.