Gemotions

“Another one bites the dust,” Mark muttered, shoving the rejection letter back into its envelope. His hands were clammy, and he wiped them on his jeans, leaving faint, sweaty streaks. He’d envisioned the cover, imagined the reviews, fantasized about the book signings. Now, all that remained was a growing sense of inadequacy.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and went to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water, his hand shaking slightly as he brought it to his lips. Every step felt labored, every movement clumsy. He could almost feel the eyes of the rejection committee on his back, scrutinizing him.

He pictured himself at the book launch he'd imagined, everyone laughing at him. He knew he should get back to work but it felt like the floor was tilting beneath his feet, and the thought was simply unbearable. He reached for the bottle of whiskey instead.