Gemotions

Sarah pushed her chair back from the table, the scrape of the legs a grating sound in the otherwise silent apartment. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, painting stripes across the dusty floor. It felt too bright, too cheerful for how she felt.

She reread the email, the words blurring together. It was a polite, professional rejection, thanking her for her time. She crumpled the paper in her hand, the action devoid of any real force.

“Well,” she muttered to herself, the word lacking any spark of conviction. She knew Ben would get it. He always had the knack. He’d probably already celebrated, cracking open a beer, already planning the route he'd take to work.