Gemotions

The letter lay on the table, still unopened, but the email notification on the laptop gave it away. James, however, was in the midst of a cooking spree. He had a sudden and irrepressible urge to bake an elaborate cake, a task he usually avoided. He hummed, whistling a merry tune as he measured ingredients.

The phone rang, and it was a friend asking how it went with the publisher. He answered, but his voice was far more energetic than usual. He quickly mentioned that it wasn't a fit. He then changed the subject and enthusiastically talked about the cake he was making.

His movements were swift, his energy boundless. The smell of vanilla and sugar filled the air. The rejection was irrelevant. The cake was the focus.