Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash in Amelia's mouth. She'd barely slept, the clock ticking in her head like a tiny, insistent hammer. A nervous tremor rattled her fingers as she clicked the "send" button on the email to her supervisor. Inside, her stomach churned. The presentation was complete, the culmination of six months of late nights and fervent research. What if someone else had the same idea?

She walked to the window, the city lights blurring into an indistinguishable haze. She kept picturing the data set, the specific methodology, the clever angle she’d used. All of it, vulnerable. Exposed.

Her phone buzzed. It was an email from Mark, a colleague in a different department. "Meeting about Project Chimera? Ready when you are." Project Chimera… that was her project. He knew.