Gemotions

The editor’s words, though polite, cut like a knife. The manuscript, deemed “not quite right,” rested on the kitchen counter beside a mug of cooling tea. Amelia stared at it, the pages filled with her hopes and dreams, her sweat and toil. She felt the sting of disappointment, a familiar ache.

She took a slow, deliberate breath, the cool air filling her lungs. This was a hurdle, not a roadblock. Her eyes landed on the bookshelf, on the well-worn copies of her favorite authors. Their journeys had been long and winding, too. She glanced at the clock and reached for her laptop, her fingers itching to write. She wasn't finished, not by a long shot.