Gemotions

“Not for us, unfortunately,” the email read, the words blurring through Daniel’s tear-filled eyes. He slammed his laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise quiet room. He had been so sure, so convinced this was it. The culmination of his life’s work, a meticulously crafted novel about his grandfather.

He kicked a discarded shoe across the room, the anger momentarily bubbling to the surface. He slumped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. The muted light filtering through the blinds did little to alleviate the shadows that seemed to be gathering around him. His stomach twisted. He couldn't remember the last time he’d eaten a proper meal.

He thought of calling his wife, Sarah. But the words wouldn't come. What could he say? He felt like he had failed her, too. He pressed his face into the pillow, the cotton absorbing the silent tears.