Gemotions

The phone slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor after he read the email. Michael stared at the ceiling, his breath catching in his throat. The walls of his apartment seemed to shrink, closing in on him. The publisher, the only one he had dreamed of, had said no.

He buried his face in his hands, letting out a groan. The carefully constructed world he’d built around his aspirations felt suddenly fragile, like glass ready to shatter. The air felt thick, difficult to draw in. He felt the cold sweat begin to form on his brow.

He needed to escape, to run, to disappear.