Gemotions

The echo of the rejection email still vibrated in Amelia’s ears. Her innovative food preservation method, a breakthrough she had dreamed of for years, was useless. Someone else had already secured the patent. Defeated, she walked through her apartment, the silence amplifying the thrumming in her head.

She picked up a paintbrush, stared blankly at the canvas, then let it drop with a clatter. Inspiration had fled. The vibrant colors of her palette seemed dull, meaningless. The studio, usually her sanctuary, felt like a prison.

She hadn't eaten all day. Her stomach growled, but the thought of food was repugnant. She slumped onto the couch, the weight of her disappointment pressing down on her, leaving her utterly motionless.