Gemotions

He felt a deep ache in his chest, a hollow feeling that seemed to have no center. The rejection letter sat on his desk, the glossy paper reflecting the dim light. He couldn't shake the image of the editor, a man named Arthur, who had been so kind, so encouraging. He’d actually *looked* at his manuscript. The thought of that felt incredibly intimate. He found himself analyzing every detail of their meeting, every shared glance, every fleeting smile. He had to see him. He looked up Arthur’s social media profile and felt an urgent desire to comment on one of his posts. He didn’t, but the urge was a potent, unwelcome force.