Gemotions

He stared at the email, the words – “not a good fit for our list” – burning into his retinas. Thomas let out a shaky breath, his chest constricted as if a heavy weight had been placed upon it. The rejection, a cold, clinical dismissal, felt like a physical blow. He slowly closed his laptop, the metal cold against his clammy hand.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, usually a comfort, now felt sickly sweet. His breakfast, a half-eaten bagel, sat abandoned on the kitchen counter. He pushed himself away from the table, a feeling of desolation washing over him. The vibrant colours of his apartment seemed muted, everything drained of its usual joy.

He wandered into the living room, collapsing onto the sofa, the plush cushions offering no solace. His gaze drifted to the framed photograph of his parents, their smiles a stark contrast to his inner turmoil. The silence of the apartment pressed in, a suffocating blanket of discouragement.