Gemotions

The editor had promised a quick decision. Weeks had passed. Now, the email had finally arrived, a digital tombstone for her hopes. He felt a hot flush creep up her neck as he read the rejection, a flush of shame.

She tossed her phone onto the sofa. She got up, pacing. She needed to do something, anything. The walls seemed to be closing in on her. She felt claustrophobic.

She went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass, filling it with ice and then water. The ice clinked. She downed the entire thing, then filled it again. She began to wonder whether she should give up. She had nothing else to offer.