Gemotions

The editor’s polite, professional email had ended with a particularly pointed phrase: "Thank you for your submission, but it's not the right time." Daniel gritted his teeth, the words stinging like a slap across the face. "Not the right time." As if the timing, not the quality of his work, was the problem.

He spent the rest of the day in a haze, avoiding human contact. He switched off his phone, unplugged the internet. He paced the length of his living room, his mind replaying the conversation he’d had with the editor at the literary festival last summer, the excitement he'd felt for the project. The enthusiasm he had felt was now crushed.

He felt an overwhelming urge to flee, to escape the suffocating weight of his disappointment. He considered packing a bag and driving, just driving, until he ran out of road.