Gemotions

“Ephemeral Ink,” had sent the letter. Clara felt as though her heart had been ripped from her chest. Her face was flushed, her vision blurred. She re-read the words, hoping that she had misread them, but the meaning remained chillingly clear: rejection. The world she had built, the stories she had dreamt, had been deemed unworthy.

She walked to the garden, the once-bright flowers now seemed to wilt. The air felt heavy, laden with the scent of impending rain. The world was dark, a bleak mirror of her mood. Her fingers trembled as she pulled a weed from the earth, and then another, her movements erratic and without grace.

The tears fell silently, mixing with the damp soil. She felt utterly alone, isolated. She fell to her knees and looked at the ground, tears blurring her vision.