Gemotions

The rejection letter felt heavy, a physical weight in her trembling hands. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, a stark contrast to the gloom that settled in her chest. She crumpled the paper, the sound sharp and final in the otherwise silent room. She hadn't eaten all day.

She stared at the wall, the framed Van Gogh print a mocking reminder of artistic struggles. He, at least, had persisted. She wasn't sure she had that kind of resolve. The manuscript lay on the floor, its pages mocking her with the title she'd poured her heart into.

The phone rang, shattering the quiet. It was her mother, asking about dinner. "I'm not hungry," she mumbled, her voice catching in her throat. She hung up, a hollow ache resonating within her.