Gemotions

The rejection email sat, a malevolent little rectangle, at the top of her inbox. Sarah let out a long, slow breath, then slammed her laptop shut. The sound echoed in the otherwise silent apartment. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the edge of the desk.

She paced the small living room, the worn rug doing little to soften her heavy footsteps. Each circuit of the room brought her back to the same conclusion: they just didn't get it. They hadn't seen the genius she knew, deep down, she possessed.

Suddenly, she grabbed the framed photo of herself with the editor, the one she’d pinned her hopes on, and hurled it against the wall. The glass shattered, the image of their smiling faces now a mosaic of disappointment. A choked sob escaped her lips.