Gemotions

The rejection email hit Clara like a physical blow. She slammed the laptop shut, the metallic clack echoing in the otherwise quiet apartment. It was a stupid, pointless email, a polite dismissal. She'd poured her heart into that application, tailored it perfectly. Now, the glossy brochure for the new marketing role sat mockingly on her coffee table, a testament to her ambition and, it seemed, her failure. She kicked a stray shoe across the room, the leather scuffing against the hardwood floor. "Damn it," she muttered, the word a bitter taste on her tongue.