Gemotions

“Feedback is welcome,” the letter’s polite closing line taunted. Ethan balled up the document, the expensive paper crinkling under his relentless grip. Feedback? They had offered him nothing, just a vapid dismissal. His own words, the story of his life, were considered unworthy.

He threw the crumpled paper across the room, where it landed against the bookshelf. The weight of his own failure was crushing. He paced his small apartment, the worn floorboards groaning under his steps. Each footfall amplified the silence, the void where his dreams had once resided.

He slammed his fist against the wall, a sharp, quick thud. He winced in pain, and then, a twisted smile played on his lips. This, at least, was real. This hurt was a tangible validation of his anguish.