Gemotions

The email arrived mid-afternoon, interrupting what had been a perfectly ordinary day. Martha, in the middle of preparing a salad, set her knife down on the cutting board. She thought she should have a strong reaction, perhaps tear the letter to shreds, or collapse onto the floor. But the feeling that washed over her was like the sensation of falling, a long and silent descent.

She finished chopping the vegetables, her movements precise. She plated the salad, and ate it slowly, paying close attention to the texture of the lettuce.

Later, she scrolled through social media, unfazed by the celebratory posts of other writers who had actually succeeded.