Gemotions

He stared at the letter, the paper crinkling in his sweaty palm. His hands were shaking; he hated that. He had imagined this moment so many times, rehearsing the ecstatic phone call he’d make to his mother, the champagne popping, the triumphant pronouncements. Now, all that remained was the hollow ache in his chest.

The rejection was polite, even complimentary, but the sting was no less potent. He felt suddenly, intensely alone. He crumpled the letter and threw it into the overflowing wastebasket, then immediately regretted it. He pulled it back out, smoothing the creases, rereading it again and again.

He thought he should get up and fix himself a drink, perhaps a strong one. But he couldn't move. He felt like the entire world was pressing down on his shoulders. The air felt thick, heavy, impossible to breathe.