Gemotions

She threw the manuscript across the room, the binding cracking as it hit the wall. The rejection was polite, but the words felt like poisoned darts. She'd poured her heart into this, and for what? To be dismissed?

Her hands trembled as she bent to pick it up, carefully smoothing the pages. She glanced over her shoulder, a prickling sensation on her skin. She was certain someone was there. The silence of the house pressed in on her, heavy and suffocating.

She needed air. Stepping outside, she started to walk. She picked up the pace, eyes darting from shadow to shadow. Every rustle of leaves, every distant car horn, felt like a threat.

She stopped abruptly. The mailman was approaching. He smiled. She flinched, convinced he knew. That he was in on it, whatever 'it' was. He was just a pawn.