Gemotions

"Uninspired," the email from Zenith Publishing had declared. Eleanor shoved her laptop across the table, the screen tilting precariously. Her stomach twisted, a bitter knot forming in her gut. She’d envisioned this moment a thousand times, each one ending with acceptance, a celebratory champagne toast. Now, a cold wave washed over her, making her fingers numb. She stood abruptly, pulling the chair backward with a screech that echoed in the silent room. She needed air, she needed to *do* something. She stormed out, slamming the door behind her, the noise like a gunshot in the otherwise peaceful afternoon.