Gemotions

He saw the notification while waiting in line at the grocery store. John, a freelancer, felt his gut twist. His piece, the one on the forgotten histories of his city, was now “authored” by a colleague who he knew had done absolutely nothing to contribute.

The supermarket seemed overwhelming, the lights too bright, the shelves packed with products he couldn't afford. He felt a wave of nausea. He clutched the cart handle as if it were a lifeline, each movement slow and deliberate.

He wanted to scream, to lash out, but the impulse passed quickly. He paid for his groceries, avoiding eye contact with the cashier, and walked back to his apartment, the silence inside a heavy shroud.