Gemotions

The printer spat out the rejection letter, a thin white rectangle of disappointment. Mark snatched it, his fingers already itching to tear it to shreds. He felt a knot tighten in his gut, a slow, agonizing squeeze.

He walked over to his bookshelf, his movements jerky and uneven. He yanked out a thick volume, slamming it back against the shelf with a crash. He wanted to blame someone, anyone. The publishers, his agent, his family.

He stood there for a long moment, chest heaving, his face contorted in an expression he couldn’t quite control. The silence of his study felt oppressive, broken only by the frantic beat of his own heart.