Gemotions

The rejection letter crackled in his hand. He tossed it onto the overflowing pile of bills on his desk, letting it land face down. He found himself inexplicably irritated by the small dust motes dancing in the sunbeams that sliced through his messy room. He picked at a loose thread on his worn jeans, a grimace twisting his lips. Why had he even bothered? The whole system was rigged, a pretense of fairness that concealed the inevitable outcome. He’d known it, deep down. He took a long, slow breath, the air thick with the smell of stale coffee and unfulfilled ambition.