Gemotions

He’d expected the email. He'd even held his breath for a moment, anticipating the familiar sting. It didn't come. Instead, a peculiar lightness settled in his chest. A sense of… buoyancy. The rejection nestled unopened in his inbox. Good. He glanced at the clock; it was time for his swim.

The pool water, cool against his skin, felt like a balm. Each stroke was a release, each lap a mile marker on a long, winding road. As he emerged, dripping and refreshed, he stretched his arms toward the sun, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

The manuscript could wait. There were other things, other joys to chase. He had a perfectly good book to rewrite. He had a whole life to live. And it was all thrilling.