Gemotions

The editor’s email hung in the air, a digital ghost of disappointment. It was a well-crafted dismissal, sugar-coated and utterly meaningless. Chloe stared at the screen, the cursor blinking, mocking her. The audacity of their rejection.

She rose from her chair, her body rigid with a gathering storm. She walked to the window, gazing at the glittering city lights, each one a tiny beacon of success that seemed to taunt her. They'd never understand, she thought, the fire that burned within her, the story she was born to tell.

She turned away from the window, and reached for the bottle of expensive wine she had been saving for a celebration. She poured a generous glass, and then another, each swallow fueling the bitter resentment that was rapidly consuming her.