Gemotions

A wave of heat surged through Clara, warming her from the inside out. Her palms were sweating, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She read the rejection email again, her smile widening with each word. "Not the right fit for our current list." Oh, the irony!

Clara spun around in her tiny apartment, almost bumping into a stack of her own unpublished novels. The scent of coffee, brewing in the kitchen, suddenly filled her nostrils with an invigorating aroma. She felt light, buoyant, as if gravity had momentarily lost its grip on her.

"Right fit?" she whispered, her voice bubbling with amusement. She knew the perfect fit, and it wasn't them. It was her own vision. With a newfound zest, Clara grabbed her laptop, her fingers itching to write a new story, a better story, a story that *she* wanted to tell.