Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window, mirroring the tempest inside Clara. She stared at the rain-streaked glass, a picture of defeat. Thomas, that grinning, overconfident, always-one-step-ahead Thomas, had gotten the marketing position.

She crumpled the acceptance letter she had received and tossed it across the room. It landed near the waste basket, a basket which, ironically, contained the application she had submitted as a backup. She let out a frustrated grunt and stood up.

She slammed her fist against the wall. The action released a little bit of the internal pressure, but the feeling of being completely flattened by fate remained. She felt so utterly drained, like a punctured tire.