Gemotions

The elevator ride down felt excruciatingly long. Amelia couldn't meet the eyes of the other passengers; she studied the numbers illuminating above the door, her heart hammering against her ribs. The receptionist had been so welcoming, so hopeful, but the editor's face, when delivering the verdict, had been carefully neutral. The rejection felt like a physical blow.

Outside, the city seemed too bright, too loud. She felt exposed, vulnerable. Every passing pedestrian felt like a judge, privy to her failure. She clenched her jaw, trying to keep tears from spilling. She wanted to scream, to run, to disappear into the anonymous crowd. She'd told her mother she was going to hear a positive response.