Gemotions

“No,” she murmured, the word escaping her lips like a fragile breath. The email notification was a small square on the screen, but it felt enormous, looming over her. She knew the publisher, she had read their books, she had dreamed of them accepting her.

The room seemed to tilt slightly. She gripped the edge of her desk, her knuckles turning white. Her heart pounded in her chest, a frantic drumbeat against her ribs. The coffee she had just brewed sat untouched, its warmth now a distant memory.

She felt a strange disconnect, as if she were watching herself from outside, observing her own grief.