Gemotions

The editor’s polite refusal felt like a physical blow. Thomas reread the email, each sentence a stab. *Thank you for your patience… Not quite right for our list…* He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further. He'd envisioned this moment, the acceptance, the celebratory phone calls. He had even planned the launch party!

His chair creaked as he leaned back. The walls of his apartment seemed to close in, the air thick with unspoken disappointment. He stood up, pacing back and forth, the same words echoing in his head. *Not quite right…* The sunlight from the window felt inadequate, unable to dispel the growing gloom.

He grabbed his worn leather jacket, the one he always wore when he needed to feel grounded. He wanted to go for a run, maybe work it all out through the pounding of his feet, the burn in his lungs. Anything to distract from the hollow ache in his chest.