Gemotions

"Is this some kind of joke?" Maya snapped, her voice tight, into the phone. The editor’s hesitant response did nothing to soothe her. Her stomach churned. The literary journal, *The Inkwell*, contained her short story, “Beneath the Willow,” but the name listed was a man’s name, Arthur Finch.

She gripped the phone so hard her knuckles were white. The familiar scent of her favorite rosemary candle failed to calm her. All the rejection letters she’d received in the past paled in comparison to this blatant act of betrayal. Years of work, all for naught.

The light outside seemed far too bright. She hung up and sank onto her couch. The world tilted slightly. This felt like a punch to the gut.