Gemotions

The rejection letter was crisp, the paper expensive, the script polite. It felt like a punch to the gut, even though she knew, rationally, that such things happened. Still, the world blurred a little. Her hands trembled as she reread the editor’s closing sentence: *…perhaps a different project would be more suitable.* A different project? With whom? Her gaze drifted to the framed picture of the editor, Mr. Sterling, on her desk. His slightly crooked smile, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners – all suddenly seemed to hold a different, almost mocking, significance. She felt a burning need to see him, to understand, to… well, she didn’t know what. She just knew she had to. Now.