Gemotions

She threw the manuscript across the room, the pages scattering like wounded doves. The sleek office, with its minimalist furniture and panoramic view, suddenly seemed suffocating. The air itself felt thick, polluted with the unspoken judgment. He’d promised her a call, the editor. Instead, she got the typed form.

She leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, a knot tightening in her chest. The polished wood of the floor felt cold against her bare feet. The carefully constructed facade she’d maintained for months – the confident smile, the optimistic pronouncements – cracked, revealing the raw, exposed nerves beneath.

She picked up a vase, a gift from her mother, and hurled it against the wall. The shattering glass echoed, a physical manifestation of the implosion within. She wanted nothing more than to erase all memories of this place, this day, this whole wretched pursuit.