Gemotions

"Unsuitable." The word, stamped in bold, stared up at her from the email. Evelyn felt the blood drain from her face. She closed her laptop, the screen reflecting her pale features, and immediately stood up. She paced her small apartment, her movements frantic and erratic.

She'd spent years perfecting her craft, honing her voice. She'd sacrificed relationships, sleep, and sanity for this. It was supposed to be her triumph. Her stomach churned with a familiar nausea, and she hurried to the bathroom.

She stared at her reflection, recognizing a stranger, someone hollowed out by relentless pursuit.