Gemotions

He slammed the laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. The words "not quite right for our list" swam before his eyes. He’d poured years into this project, late nights fueled by lukewarm coffee and unwavering hope. Now, this.

He started pacing, a restless energy coursing through him. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, the gesture almost frantic. The furniture seemed to mock him, the comfortable sofa and the once-loved armchair now appearing smug.

He’d known, of course, that rejection was a possibility. But the reality hit harder, an icy blast that stole his breath. He grabbed his coat, an aimless walk the only thing that seemed to quiet the rising tide of discontent.