Gemotions

The afternoon light cast long shadows in Leo's cramped office, highlighting the dust motes dancing in the air. He reread the email, the words blurring before his eyes. The publisher, his dream publisher, had said no. He sighed, the air leaving his lungs with a heavy sigh.

He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further. He suddenly felt a need to tidy, to organize, to control something, anything. He began stacking papers, alphabetizing files, a frantic attempt to create order out of the chaos of his disappointment.

His reflection in the window showed a man trapped in his own anxieties, a man desperately seeking validation. He wasn't sure what to do next.