Gemotions

The sterile white walls of the doctor's waiting room seemed to recede, as if viewed through a lens of joy. Michael, his hands clasped together, let out a silent chuckle. The publisher’s response to his manuscript was sitting in his inbox, and the disappointment it caused was... oddly uplifting.

He stood up, suddenly feeling the need to walk, to move. He paced back and forth, the polished floor reflecting the afternoon light. He felt an undeniable lightness, a sense of liberation.

He smiled, a wide, open smile that radiated pure contentment. He was free to write what he wanted, how he wanted, without compromise.