Gemotions

The editor’s polite regrets felt like a compliment. He felt himself straighten in his chair, a small, involuntary movement of the spine. He reread the rejection, letting the words wash over him. His novel had been considered. It had been *thought* about.

He swivelled in his chair, gazing out the window at the rain-streaked city. He had something others wanted, something they saw value in. He felt an invigorating surge of energy.

He leaned back, stretching his arms above his head, and let out a chuckle. The rejection was a badge of honor.