Gemotions

It felt as though a vital part of her had been amputated. The vibrant colors of the world seemed to have dulled, everything in shades of grey. She sat in her armchair, staring at the wall, not really seeing anything. The rejection letter was propped up on the mantelpiece, a constant reminder of her failure.

The silence of the house was oppressive, broken only by the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway. Time seemed to drag, each second a painful exercise in self-pity.

Her fingers traced the spine of the book she’d been writing. The stories inside felt dead to her now, cold, and worthless. She closed her eyes, wishing she could simply disappear.