Gemotions

The hum of the refrigerator was a constant, irritating presence in Leo's otherwise silent apartment. He’d stared at the email for an hour, the carefully worded rejection echoing through his mind. His dream, the novel, now felt like a lead weight in his chest.

He shuffled over to the window and stared out at the gray cityscape. The world seemed to move at a frantic pace, filled with lives lived with purpose, while he, well, he felt tethered. Nothing seemed to hold his interest.

He opened a cupboard and grabbed a jar of pickles. He ate them straight from the jar, the sourness barely registering. The taste was as bland as his current state. He threw the lid of the jar in the trash with a force he didn’t know he possessed.