Gemotions

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Clara read the email again, and then again, each time the words hitting her with the force of a physical blow. Her stomach twisted, a cold knot forming in its depths. The carefully arranged living room, once a sanctuary of comfort, now felt like a gallery of her failures.

She’d spent years crafting this novel. She’d sacrificed sleep, social engagements, even her sanity. And for what? She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. She sat perfectly still, petrified.

The silence in the apartment was deafening, the ticking of the clock a relentless reminder of her wasted time. She wanted to erase the last few years, to have never even attempted to write the book.