Gemotions

The silence in the small cottage felt absolute, a heavy, suffocating blanket. Thomas reread the email. The publisher's polite rejection seemed to echo in the empty space. It was not what he expected. He dropped his gaze to the unfinished manuscript on his desk. He had lost track of time as he wrote it, consumed by the story. Now, all that focus evaporated. A wave of exhaustion washed over him. He felt as if a vital piece of him had been ripped away, leaving a gaping wound. He didn't know what to do.