Gemotions

The rejection letter crackled in Amelia's hand. The glossy paper felt mocking. "We regret..." it began, and Amelia already knew the ending. She crumpled the letter, then smoothed it out, smoothing it out again and again until it was a map of her own disappointment. She read it one more time. The publisher, the one she’d idolized since she was a child, had deemed her work "lacking." The audacity. She marched to her desk, ripped the rejection letter in half, then tore each half into smaller and smaller pieces, a furious ballet of paper shards swirling to the floor.