Gemotions

The familiar scent of old paper and ink no longer brought comfort to her. She sat in her study, surrounded by stacks of books, a fortress of words that now felt like a prison. The rejection letter, crumpled in her hand, felt like a burning brand. She pushed back her chair, scraping it across the floor. She ran a hand over the spines of her favorite books, the titles now mocking her, reminders of her own perceived inadequacy. The silence of the room was a deafening weight, the quiet thrumming of her own heartbeat the only sound to interrupt the silence.