Gemotions

The rain hammered against the windowpane, mirroring the storm raging inside Henry. He stared at the screen, the side-by-side comparison of his story and the book of his hero, Arthur Finch. Finch, of all people! The man whose work he had venerated, studied, and imitated. Now, he felt the world spin.

He got up from his chair, pacing the cramped room, back and forth. The air was thick with the scent of old paper and regret. He picked up his phone, then quickly put it down. There was nothing to say, no words to express the magnitude of this disappointment. He walked out of the room.