Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windowpane, mirroring the storm inside Leo. He'd been so certain. He'd envisioned the cover, the reviews, the book signings. Now, the glossy rejection letter lay on his desk, a stark white testament to his failure. He was supposed to be further along. He’d told everyone – his wife, his writing group, even the barista at the coffee shop – that this was his moment.

He avoided eye contact with Sarah at dinner. Her gentle questions about his day felt like accusations. Each shared glance felt like a betrayal. He mumbled an apology and excused himself from the table, claiming a headache. The truth was, he couldn't bear the thought of her disappointment.

He went to the garage, where his unfinished writing project sat. Its cover, a drawing of a mountain peak, stared back at him. He could not bring himself to look at it. He was supposed to have done better.