Gemotions

The weight of the letter felt immense, the paper almost too heavy to hold. The rejection contained the words, "prior art," and Maya's stomach plummeted. Her self-watering plant pot was already done.

She ripped the letter in half, then again, then again, the pieces scattering across her desk. The small space seemed to shrink and the walls pressed in.

She walked out into the garden, her fists clenched. She pulled at weeds with aggressive force. She needed to work. She needed something to do. The silence was torture.