Gemotions

"No," Amelia whispered, staring at the unopened letter on her kitchen table. The silence of the apartment felt deafening. She'd finally dared to send her novel, *Crimson Tides*, to her dream publisher. It had been years in the making.

She walked to the window, watching the rain streak down the glass. The city lights blurred into shimmering puddles. The scent of her grandmother's cinnamon-scented candles filled the air, a scent which usually brought warmth. Now, it only made the emptiness more poignant.

She reached for the phone, wanting to hear a friendly voice, a laugh. She dialed her sister's number, her fingers trembling slightly. The rejection letter remained unopened, a symbol of the future she hadn't anticipated.