Gemotions

The rejection notification blinked on the screen, a tiny digital intruder. She immediately shut down the computer. It would take a miracle for her to make dinner. The idea of cooking, of normalcy, felt utterly repulsive.

She sat on the sofa, clutching a cushion. The silence of the apartment pressed in on her. The sunlight filtering through the blinds seemed to cast accusing shadows. She felt a knot in her stomach, a bitter taste rising in her throat.

She found herself staring at the bookshelf, at the spines of the authors who *had* made it. She flipped through the pages, her fingers tracing the words, a deep sense of inadequacy washing over her.