Gemotions

He folded the rejection letter into a tight, neat square. Then, he put it in the back of his desk drawer. The gesture was a deliberate act of control, a way of containing the bitterness threatening to spill over.

He returned to his computer, the cursor blinking, mocking his stalled progress. He clicked on a folder filled with years of work. Then he clicked "delete," and shut his eyes.

Later, he went outside for a walk. He avoided eye contact, the cheerful greetings of passersby falling on deaf ears. He walked further, and further, until the streetlights became dim, and the city felt like a distant memory.