Gemotions

"Unbelievable," Clara breathed, her voice a strained whisper. She reread the rejection letter, the carefully crafted prose grating on her nerves. The font, the spacing, even the *signature* of the editor, was all maddeningly perfect and professional. It seemed to mock her.

She slammed the laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent room. She felt a burning sensation in her throat, a desire to yell. She clenched her fists, her knuckles white. She’d spent months, years, on this manuscript, and for what? To be dismissed with a carefully worded, politely dismissive email?

She went to the kitchen and grabbed a cup. She needed coffee, strong coffee. She fumbled with the coffee beans, spilling some on the counter. The mess felt symbolic. Of what, she wasn't quite sure, but she knew she was going to have a terrible day.