Gemotions

"Just… another day," she muttered to the cat, who blinked back at her from the sofa. The words felt hollow, echoing the hollowness within her. She pulled the covers over her head, wishing she could simply disappear. The manuscript, once a source of fierce pride, was now a painful reminder.

Later, she forced herself to shower, the hot water washing over her like a futile attempt to cleanse an indelible stain. She ate a handful of stale crackers, the crunch a discordant noise in the otherwise silent apartment. The manuscript sat on her desk, its pages taunting her with their beauty and their insignificance.

She wandered aimlessly through the apartment, bumping into furniture, her movements clumsy and uncoordinated. The world seemed to have lost its color, a monochrome landscape stretching endlessly before her.