Gemotions

The editor’s apology was polite, but unconvincing. A clerical error, they claimed. An oversight. He felt his face heat, a slow burn spreading up from his neck. As if.

He knew what it was really about. They'd seen him as some kid. A nobody. He'd shown them, with that very article, what he was capable of. And now, they'd stolen it.

He pushed his chair back from the desk, the scrape of the metal against the floor echoing in the small office. He wouldn't let it slide. He refused to be dismissed. He was going to make sure they knew they had messed with the wrong person.

His hand closed into a fist. He had a plan.