Gemotions

The email sat in Amelia’s inbox, glowing with a malevolent light. It contained a link to a prestigious literary journal, her words printed on the screen under the name "Bartholomew Finch." Her stomach lurched, a cold, clenching sensation that made her want to press her hand against her abdomen. She spun around, pacing the cramped confines of her apartment, her breath hitching in shallow gasps. She clutched the worn edge of her desk, knuckles white, a silent scream building in her throat. This couldn't be happening. She reread the email, her eyes darting back and forth, the carefully crafted prose now feeling alien, contaminated.