Gemotions

The park, usually a source of comfort, felt vast and empty. The wind whipped at Maya’s cheeks, a cold caress she barely noticed. The rejection letter remained unopened in her bag, a silent sentinel of her dashed hopes.

She walked aimlessly, avoiding the paths where children laughed and lovers strolled. A familiar hollow ache echoed in her chest. She found herself sitting on a bench, and she stayed there.

The sun started to set, casting long shadows that seemed to lengthen the already extended day. She wished she had never written the book.