Gemotions

The automated reply from the publisher, offering no personal touch, was the final nail in the coffin. Daniel felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He stared at the screen, the words blurring before his eyes. He felt a desperate urge to tear the computer apart.

His small house, usually a comfort, now felt like a pressure cooker. The air was thick and heavy, making it difficult to breathe. The furniture seemed to crowd the space, closing in on him.

He slammed his fist against the desk, the impact sending a jolt of pain up his arm. The feeling, raw and sharp, was a strange relief. The silence that followed was even more oppressive, filled with the echo of his despair.