Gemotions

He slammed the phone down, the plastic receiver rattling against the cheap, veneer desk. A vein throbbed visibly in his temple. Across the room, a porcelain cat, a gift from his grandmother, quivered precariously on the edge of the shelf. He wanted to shatter it, to watch it explode into a thousand white shards. He took a deep, ragged breath, then another, the air raspy in his throat. He’d poured his soul into this book, bled on the pages, and for what? A form letter. A dismissive brush-off.