Gemotions

David tossed the rejection letter onto the overflowing pile of other rejection letters on his desk. The flimsy paper seemed to wilt under the weight of his despair. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it a tangled mess. The publisher, the one that published all his literary heroes, had turned him down. Again.

He stood up, his legs feeling heavy, and walked towards the window. The city outside, usually vibrant and full of energy, felt distant, muffled, almost unreal. The words of the letter were etched in his mind, *not a good fit…* He slammed his fist against the window frame.

The pain, a sharp, immediate shock, was almost a relief. He turned and surveyed the apartment, the countless books, the overflowing notebooks. All the evidence of his relentless pursuit, his unwavering belief in his own stories. Now what?