Gemotions

He’d always wanted to write, to be a *real* writer. Daniel traced the worn cover of *Moby Dick*, a book he'd picked up at a flea market. He'd imagined unearthing something like this; a first edition, a signed copy. Instead, a creased letter tumbled out. He recognized the familiar, confident script of his college rival, Thomas.

Thomas, the published author. Thomas, the one who’d won all the awards. Thomas, who’d effortlessly achieved everything Daniel had ever dreamed of. The letter was a proposal from a prestigious literary agency. Daniel felt a coldness spread through his chest.

He read the letter slowly, meticulously, each word a fresh wound. The agency praised Thomas’s ‘unique voice,’ his ‘bold vision.’ Daniel felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He tossed the book onto the floor, hard enough to make the dust motes dance in the afternoon sunlight. He walked away from it, back toward the unfinished manuscript that was now feeling like a burden, not a passion.