Gemotions

“They didn’t like it,” she muttered, the words barely audible. She was telling her cat, Mittens, who blinked slowly in response. She'd been telling Mittens everything for weeks. She'd told her about the story, about the dream, about the endless anticipation.

She looked at the unopened bottle of wine. She'd promised herself she’d celebrate with it if she got the good news. Now, the prospect of drinking alone, of celebrating nothing, seemed exhausting. She turned away from the counter and, suddenly, lost her appetite completely.

She began to gather the discarded notes and drafts from the floor. She thought she'd burn them, but changed her mind and simply threw them in the trash.