Gemotions

He sat frozen, the rejection email a digital serpent coiled on his laptop screen. The publisher's bland, generic words felt like a personal insult, a judgment on his very soul. He felt a sudden, disorienting lightness, as if his feet were no longer touching the ground.

A wave of nausea washed over him. He pressed his hand to his forehead, attempting to stop the room from spinning. The air seemed thin, difficult to breathe. He needed air.

He leaped up from his chair, shoving the laptop aside. He ripped open the window, gulping down the cool, night air as if it were a life preserver.