Gemotions

The elevator ride down from the publishing house felt excruciatingly slow. He stared straight ahead, a rigid line forming between his eyebrows. The security guard’s cheerful "Have a good day!" was met with a curt nod.

He lit a cigarette the moment he reached the street, ignoring the "No Smoking" signs. The smoke burned his throat, but he didn't care. He watched the throngs of people, their happy chatter and pointless purpose, with an undisguised contempt.

Back at his tiny apartment, he found himself staring at the unfinished manuscript, the rejected child of his ambitions. He ripped a page from the manuscript and tossed it into the trash, a symbolic gesture of defiance.