Gemotions

The clatter of the cafe was deafening, a cacophony of sound that usually soothed her, yet today it grated on her. She'd chosen a table tucked away in a corner, hoping for a sliver of privacy. The crumpled napkin on the table bore the marks of her fidgeting fingers, a testament to her mounting unease.

She’d left the manuscript with her dream publisher weeks ago, and now the silence had become a deafening roar. She pushed the remaining coffee around the bottom of her cup. She felt her chest tighten with each passing minute, and she was having trouble focusing on anything other than the gnawing sensation in her gut. She glanced at the door, half expecting to see the publisher's representative.

She took another, too long, sip.