Gemotions

The email sat in Amelia’s inbox, a stark white rectangle amidst the usual deluge of junk mail. She'd been refreshing the page every five minutes since yesterday afternoon, a habit that now felt less like anxious anticipation and more like a nervous tic. Her breath hitched as she clicked.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drum solo. The words blurred at first, a chaotic jumble. Rejection. The word sprang out, bold and brutal, followed by a list of vague platitudes. Amelia reread it, focusing on the impersonal tone, the polite dismissal. Her shoulders slumped; the tiny apartment felt suddenly vast and empty.