Gemotions

"Uninspired? Uninspired!" Clara slammed the phone down, the receiver bouncing off the hardwood table. Her jaw was clenched so tight she felt a muscle spasm. She glared at the manuscript, its pristine cover now mocking her. She’d meticulously crafted every sentence, agonized over every comma. She paced the cramped living room, the Persian rug feeling suddenly scratchy under her bare feet. Why couldn't they see the story she had to tell? She picked up a decorative plate and flung it at the brick fireplace, it shattered into a million pieces.