Gemotions

The rejection letter crackled in Arthur’s trembling hand. He'd poured years into this, into *The Clockwork Heart*, a sprawling fantasy epic. Now, the head editor’s polite but dismissive words felt like a physical blow. He crumpled the paper, the sound a defiant snap in the sterile silence of his apartment. He stalked to the kitchen, shoving aside the overflowing pile of dirty dishes in the sink. The ceramic chipped under the force of his hand as he slammed a mug down onto the counter. He needed tea, something to take the edge off. But even the kettle seemed to mock him, whistling a shrill, infuriating tune.