Gemotions

He tore the rejection letter into tiny pieces, the paper fluttering to the floor like unwelcome confetti. He swept the pieces under the rug with a violent swipe of his foot. He felt a throbbing pulse in his temples.

He stood in the middle of his living room, a space usually filled with a sense of peace, now a cage of frustration. He paced back and forth, muttering under his breath. The thought of confronting his writing group, and the inevitable questions about his manuscript, filled him with dread.

He grabbed his keys, and slammed the door behind him. He needed to get away, to be alone, to be anything but what he was.