Gemotions

The email sat in her inbox, a cold, digital slab of disappointment. Amelia clicked on it with a tap of her finger, a small grin playing on her lips. It was, as predicted, a rejection. The publisher had cited a lack of market appeal. She snorted, a sharp, almost derisive sound.

She stood up and did a little jig, her movements jerky but enthusiastic. She spun around, humming a tune she made up on the spot.

She grabbed her phone and snapped a picture of the letter, then sent it to her friend with a caption: "Onwards and upwards! Next publisher, here I come!"