Gemotions

The world outside Amelia's window blurred. The rejection email's words, still fresh in her mind, formed a thick, bitter coating in her mouth. She went to make tea, her hands fumbling with the kettle and mugs. The simple task felt monumental.

She sat on her porch steps, letting the chill air soothe the heat radiating from her face. Every leaf rustling in the wind sounded like a whispered judgment. She kept expecting someone to appear and ask the inevitable question, the one she dreaded: "Did you hear back?"

The steaming cup did nothing to warm the emptiness inside her.