Gemotions

The email sat in Eleanor’s inbox, a tiny, digital viper. She’d refreshed her email a dozen times that day, her heart hammering against her ribs with each press of the button. Now, the words stared back at her: "We regret…" A cold sweat slicked her palms. She couldn't breathe. Her carefully constructed world, built on years of tireless writing, felt as if it had simply dissolved into nothingness. She felt a dreadful emptiness, and the room seemed to spin. She stumbled towards the window, needing air, her legs turning to jelly.