Gemotions

She slammed the phone down, the plastic receiver bouncing on the desk. A hot wave washed over Amelia, making her skin prickle. Her fingers clenched into fists, nails digging into her palms. She stared at the email on her laptop screen, the cold, clinical language of rejection staring back at her. The air in her small apartment seemed thick, almost unbreathable. She grabbed her keys, a desperate need to escape the confines of her disappointment taking over. Ignoring the half-finished dinner on the stove, she stormed out, the slam of the door echoing her mood.