Gemotions

The phone lay silent on the table, its screen dark, its potential for connection lost. Liam had expected calls, not silence, not since the rejection. He had believed in his book, a genre-bending science fiction novel, more than anything. Now, it was just a collection of words on a hard drive.

He pushed away from the table, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He paced the narrow confines of his apartment, the movements mechanical, repetitive. He felt as though he was walking inside a box. The air felt stale, the silence oppressive.

He stopped in front of the window, staring out at the rain-slicked streets. The city, usually a source of inspiration, seemed cold, indifferent. He had no more drive. He had no more hope. He felt utterly and completely defeated.