Gemotions

The email sat in Eleanor’s inbox, glowing with a malevolent light. She had been refreshing her email every five minutes for a week, and now, here it was: rejection. She felt the blood drain from her face. Her carefully curated outfit—a power suit, a statement necklace—suddenly felt like a costume, a cruel joke.

Her hands shook as she clicked the mouse. The words swam before her eyes. “While we appreciate your submission…” the polite language was a fresh wound. She slumped in her chair, the air seeming to thicken around her. The office, usually a haven of creativity, now felt like a prison.

She wanted to disappear, to dissolve into the floral wallpaper. She had poured her heart and soul into this book, and now, it was deemed unworthy. Her phone rang, the shrill chime causing her to jump. It was her mother, eager for good news. Eleanor let it go to voicemail, unable to face the inevitable questions.