Gemotions

The publisher’s response, a form letter laced with polite platitudes, sat mocking on Clara’s kitchen table. She sat opposite it, her jaw tight, her chest constricted. She’d painstakingly crafted this story, dedicating every spare moment to its creation. The editor's dismissal felt like a personal insult, a deliberate assault on her abilities. She picked up a nearby pen and stabbed it repeatedly into the soft wood of the table, leaving tiny, angry indentations. Her breath hitched, shallow and rapid. She wanted to scream.