Gemotions

The rejection letter crackled in Arthur’s hand, a flimsy piece of paper holding the weight of his shattered aspirations. He tossed it onto the overflowing bin, the gesture abrupt and violent. His jaw tightened as he glanced at the towering skyscraper where “Prestigious Publishing” was located. Just another monument to mediocrity, he thought.

He grabbed his leather satchel, the worn material feeling rough against his palm. He decided to walk the long way home. The city's bustle, the oblivious rush of people, suddenly grated on him. He found himself kicking a discarded soda can, the metallic clang echoing his inner frustration.

His phone buzzed. It was his mother, asking about dinner. He texted back a terse "Maybe later." The thought of her well-meaning but utterly uncomprehending questions about his “writing hobby” soured his stomach.