Gemotions

He’d almost dropped the phone. The polite voice of the junior editor was still echoing in Michael’s ears. “We’ve decided not to move forward with your submission at this time.” His hands were shaking so much he spilled coffee on his favorite jeans.

He slumped onto the sofa, the words "at this time" a cruel tease. He felt as if a spotlight had suddenly been turned on him, highlighting every flaw, every mistake he'd ever made. He felt a need to explain himself to everyone, even the cat.

He picked at the frayed edges of the couch cushion, the familiar texture doing little to soothe his frayed nerves. The rejection felt like a personal insult, a confirmation of his inadequacy. He just wanted to disappear.