Gemotions

The rejection letter was a neatly folded white flag of surrender. She unfolded it again and again, as if the words would somehow change. They didn't. They wouldn't.

She started locking doors and windows, even though she lived in a quiet neighborhood. The clicks echoed in the empty house. She switched off the television, the news anchors' bland faces now seemed sinister.

Her phone buzzed. She jumped. It was her editor. She needed to ask something. She felt a surge of dread. Did they know? Was she being watched?

She didn't answer the call. Instead, she turned off the phone entirely, plunging herself into an even more unsettling quiet. She went to the front window. She felt someone watching her.