Gemotions

The coffee tasted like burnt tires. Amelia slammed the mug down, sloshing the lukewarm liquid onto the already stained kitchen counter. Liam, her best friend, was coming over. They were supposed to celebrate, but all she felt was a knot twisting in her gut. He got the job. She didn't.

She paced the small living room, her bare feet slapping against the worn wooden floorboards. The rejection email flashed in her mind, taunting her with its polite phrasing and empty promises. She had even ironed her lucky shirt for the interview.

"Maybe I should just move to the mountains and become a hermit," she muttered, grabbing the remote and stabbing at the power button. The screen flickered, displaying a reality show. She promptly turned it off. Nothing felt right.