Gemotions

"No," Clara murmured, the word escaping her lips like a choked sob. The rejection email from Persephone Press, her dream publisher, was still open on her laptop screen. The carefully worded polite refusal seemed to taunt her. She ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the strands. Her apartment, usually a haven of creativity and warmth, felt cold and sterile. The sunlight streaming through the window seemed too bright, too accusatory. She'd poured her heart and soul into this novel. Where did she go wrong? She didn’t know which was worse, the rejection itself, or the sudden, gnawing doubt that had taken root in her gut.