Gemotions

"Not the right fit." Those three words echoed in Amelia's head, each syllable a tiny hammer blow against her already fragile composure. She had poured her heart into this novel, crafting a story of resilience and love against a backdrop of war. Now, the people who had claimed to love it hadn't seen the fire in the pages.

She felt a physical lightness, as if the ground beneath her feet was unsteady. The world seemed to tilt. She hadn't expected it to feel so…personal. She spent the next few hours sitting on her couch, staring out the window, as the afternoon faded into evening. The city lights began to twinkle, and she found herself feeling oddly disconnected from all of them. The book felt like a part of her, and now it was out there, unloved, unwanted.

She made a half-hearted attempt at dinner, but the food tasted like ashes. She pushed the plate away, the feeling like a lump of cold stone in her stomach.