Gemotions

The manuscript, now a weight in his bag, felt like a dead bird. He should have known. He should have seen it coming. But hope, that foolish, relentless emotion, had blinded him. He walked through the bustling city, the vibrant colors and sounds a harsh contrast to the dull ache within.

He had fantasized about the signed contract, the book launch, the accolades. He imagined the joy of his father, the one who’d always believed he'd accomplish great things. Now, all that remained was the sting of failure.

He sought solace in the familiar comfort of a small park, but even the sight of the swaying trees offered no comfort. He sat on a bench, the cool metal biting into his skin, and felt a profound sadness. He felt a deep, piercing sense of loss.