Gemotions

He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it a mess. The crisp, official envelope mocked him from across the kitchen table. He’d dreamt of this publisher for years, of their prestigious roster of authors. Now, his manuscript joined the countless others, lost in the slush pile. He didn't bother to clear away the breakfast dishes.

He dragged himself into the bedroom, the weight of the day settling upon him. The words of the editor, kind but dismissive, echoed in his mind. *Not quite right for us.* He felt a hollowness in his chest, a sense of having failed. He gazed at his bookshelves and felt distant from the books. He had once loved reading.

He’d imagined the moment, the acceptance, the thrill. Instead, he felt a crushing disappointment.