Gemotions

He slammed the laptop shut with a force that made the screen flicker. A curse, sharp and short, escaped his lips. His jaw was tight, his hands balled into fists. He stalked across the room, the hardwood floor creaking under his angry strides. The rejection letter, concise and brutal, lay on the desk like a death warrant.

His vision blurred, a sheen of moisture clouding his eyes. He grabbed the framed photo of his grandfather, the man who had first told him stories, and stared at it. The old man's smiling face seemed to mock him. A wave of nausea hit him; he swallowed hard, trying to regain control.

He turned away from the picture, unable to bear the weight of his own failure. He yanked open the window, the sudden rush of cold air doing little to soothe the fire that was consuming him. He paced again, a caged animal.