Gemotions

"Impossible," Amelia whispered, her voice barely audible. Her chest ached, a deep, persistent throb. The article, her article on sustainable farming, was a project born from her heart and was now labeled with someone else's name.

The small, cluttered office where she worked, which previously held a kind of comfort, suddenly felt like a cage. She couldn't breathe. The air felt thick, heavy with the weight of her frustration. She had been here for years, and yet she felt like she was trapped in an invisible prison.

She spun around in her chair. The rhythmic clicking of the keyboard next door was a grating sound. She opened her email and wrote a draft of a letter of protest, but didn't send it. Then, she deleted it. It felt like every word was just another brick in the wall around her.