Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the tempest inside Amelia. She stared at the rejection letter, the crisp white paper a cruel contrast to the bleakness settling in her chest. A half-eaten sandwich sat abandoned on her desk, the mustard already starting to congeal. She pushed it away, a wave of nausea washing over her. She’d spent years on the manuscript, pouring her heart into it. Now, it was just…nothing.

The silence of her apartment pressed in on her. She felt a weight she couldn’t quite name. She picked up her phone, then immediately put it back down. No, she couldn’t face even the most well-meaning of friends right now. The thought of feigning enthusiasm for anything, even the weather, felt impossible.

She wandered aimlessly, eventually finding herself curled up on the sofa, the dog-eared copy of *Jane Eyre* clutched in her hands. Even the Brontë sisters, she thought with a hollow chuckle, probably faced rejection at some point. It offered little comfort.