Gemotions

The letter felt like a cold stone in his hand. He hadn't expected to be accepted, not really, but the utter dismissal still stung. He felt a deep ache in his chest, a hollowness that threatened to swallow him whole.

He sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creak of the chains a mournful counterpoint to his inner turmoil. The vibrant colors of the late afternoon garden seemed to mock his despair.

He wanted to curl up and disappear, to find a place where no one could see him, a place where he could lick his wounds in peace. He simply couldn't move.