Gemotions

The news didn't surprise him, exactly. But it still stung. He threw the rejection letter onto the mahogany table in his study, the rich wood seeming to mock his failure. His gaze flitted around the room – the leather-bound books, the expensive art, all reminders of his perceived accomplishments.

He strode over to the bar, and poured himself a large scotch, the amber liquid glinting in the dim light. He gulped it down, the burn a temporary distraction. He found himself picking at the edges of the rejection letter, the paper tearing under his impatient fingers.

His wife, Emily, called from the kitchen. "Darling, are you alright?" He barked, "Perfectly fine."