Gemotions

The email notification chimed, a small silver flash in the dimness of the library. Amelia leaned back in her chair, the worn wood offering a familiar pressure against her spine. She took a slow breath, the scent of old paper and dust filling her lungs. Her fingers, usually restless, remained still on the mousepad. She clicked to open the message.

The rejection notice didn't elicit a visible reaction. She tilted her head slightly, then reached for her water bottle, unscrewing the cap with deliberate slowness. A small sip. The cool liquid trickled down her throat. She glanced at the essay she'd been working on, a half-formed sentence staring back at her. Maybe later, she thought, and logged out.