Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the kitchen, a smell that usually brought joy. Today, it only served to irritate her. She slammed the oven door shut, the noise echoing in the quiet house. The rejection letter, with its carefully worded critiques, lay on the counter like a venomous serpent.

She found herself picking at the edges of the letter, tearing it into tiny pieces. Each small shred was a fragment of her shattered hopes. She hated the editor, she hated the publisher, she hated everyone.

She needed to leave. She grabbed her keys and ran out of the house, the bread forgotten.