Gemotions

"Did you... did you read it?" Clara asked, her voice cracking slightly. She’d called her editor, the one who'd initially shown enthusiasm for her work. The editor’s response, relayed with a polite but firm tone, had been the final blow. Now, Clara was left grasping for something, anything, to explain the inexplicable.

She stood at her window, tracing patterns on the condensation. Her breath fogged the glass, obscuring her view of the street below. She ran through the feedback, the comments, the suggestions. Something felt amiss, like a crucial element had been overlooked. She’d trusted her vision, and now... It was like trying to navigate a labyrinth without a map.