Gemotions

“Another one bites the dust,” he murmured, the corners of his mouth turned upward as he set the email aside. His fingers drummed lightly on the desk, a silent rhythm. He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head, and closed his eyes.

He thought of all the other writers out there, struggling, striving, and he felt a kinship with them. He got up and looked at his small library. He was part of something real, something vibrant, something that was important. A smile played on his face.