Gemotions

The phone call had ended, the polite condolences hanging in the air like a bad smell. Emily slammed the receiver back onto its cradle, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. The man on the other end, that corporate drone, had offered the usual apologies. She barely listened. She hated them, all of them.

She paced the room, the anger bubbling inside her like a poisoned spring. She pictured the publisher's luxurious office, the opulent furnishings, the smug faces of the editors. They didn't deserve her words. Her genius was being wasted.

She grabbed a nearby vase of flowers and hurled it at the wall. The glass shattered, petals scattering across the floor. She stood amidst the wreckage, breathing heavily, a strange kind of satisfaction coursing through her. The world, she decided, was full of fools.