Gemotions

He’d always considered himself to have a thick skin, but the words of the rejection letter felt like a physical blow. Thomas, a writer of crime thrillers, sat at his desk, staring out at the grey, overcast sky. The world seemed to lack colour. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture born of frustration, and fatigue.

He had expected setbacks, but not this. His carefully constructed plot felt clumsy, his characters flat. All the effort, all the late nights, seemed wasted. He felt a deep sense of emptiness, a hollow ache in his chest.

He swiveled around in his chair. The manuscript was still open on the laptop screen, a testament to his ambition, and to the bitter reality of failure. He closed the lid, the sound reverberating in the silence.