Gemotions

"Denied," Mark muttered to the empty room. The notification on his laptop screen felt like a physical blow. He stared at the words, his mind blank. He'd poured weeks into that application, crafting an intricate narrative of ambition and achievement. Now, it was just another email in the digital graveyard.

He pushed away from his desk. The room seemed suddenly too bright, the fluorescent lights harsh. He ambled toward the kitchen, the linoleum cold beneath his bare feet. He opened the refrigerator door, the interior light casting a stark glow on the contents. He took out a bottle of juice. It wasn't the healthy choice, but the act of drinking it gave a slight ease. He'd deal with everything else later.