Gemotions

The telephone sat on the counter, a silent, black sentinel. David had spent weeks composing and rehearsing the phone call he would make *after* the acceptance. Now, staring at the phone, he felt a strange sense of paralysis. The publisher’s letter, a digital ghost, echoed in his mind. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move. He felt like his limbs were weighted down. He picked up the ceramic mug that had held his morning coffee, stared at the swirling patterns, and then gently placed it back down. The world had shifted on its axis, and he was struggling to regain his equilibrium. He felt a deep, profound emptiness.