Gemotions

The editor’s words, a series of polite pronouncements, echoed in Leo’s head. They were polite, yes, but also utterly dismissive. He sat at his writing desk, the very surface where he had poured his heart onto the page, now a symbol of his failure. He grabbed the pen he used to write with, and gripped it until the ink stained his hand.

He saw his reflection in the dark screen of his turned-off monitor – a stranger, filled with a resentment he could not quite name. The room felt closed in, the air thick with unspoken frustrations. He ripped the rejection letter to shreds, enjoying the sound of the paper tearing.

He kicked the chair out from under the desk, sending it skidding across the floor. The fury inside him was a hungry beast, clawing at his insides.