Gemotions

The rejection letter sat on the kitchen table, a crisp white rectangle mocking Eleanor. She hadn't bothered to open the curtains this morning, and the room was swallowed by a gloom that seemed to emanate from the very walls. She took a long time to make coffee, the slow drip of the machine mirroring the sluggishness in her own limbs.

She stirred sugar into her coffee, then stirred again, and again, watching the granules dissolve without any particular interest. The world felt muted, as if someone had turned down the volume on life. Later, she would simply sit.

Her fingers trailed the edges of the letter, as if trying to decipher the secrets held within its polite prose. The weight of disappointment pressed upon her chest, making it difficult to breathe.