Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windowpane, mirroring the tempest within Amelia. She swiped a stray tear from her cheek, the movement jerky and uncoordinated. The rejection email sat, a digital serpent, coiled at the bottom of her inbox. Her carefully crafted piece, the one she’d poured months into, was now attributed to a “renowned expert” named Charles. She’d seen the article online. Charles's name was bolded, her words slightly adjusted, but the core was undeniably hers. The coffee in her mug had gone cold. She pushed it away, the metallic taste suddenly unappetizing. Her fingers traced the lines of the mug, a futile attempt to find solace in the solidness of the ceramic. She wanted to scream.