Gemotions

A knot tightened in David's stomach as he scanned the magazine. There it was, the article. The same meticulously researched analysis of urban decay that he had slaved over, published under the name of his supervisor, Mr. Henderson. He had imagined a triumph, a validation of his ideas. Now? He felt a hollowness, a desert stretching across his chest. He closed his eyes, remembering the late nights, the sacrifices, all for naught. He stood up from his desk, the chair screeching against the linoleum. He needed air, needed to be anywhere but here. His shoulders slumped as he walked, his footsteps dragging across the polished floors.