Gemotions

The editor's phone call had been brief, the rejection polite but final. I sat there, stunned, the phone still pressed to my ear. I was convinced this was a misunderstanding, a mistake. I wanted to scream.

My palms began to sweat. I felt a tightening in my throat, a physical constriction. I rose and moved towards the window, staring out at the trees that were usually a balm to my soul. Today, however, they seemed to mock me with their carefree movement.

The words wouldn't leave my mind. *Rejected*. My masterpiece, cast aside.