Gemotions

Her voice felt thick, tight. "It's… fine," she said, to her mother's concerned face. Inside, she wasn't. She’d spent years perfecting her novel, a modern retelling of a classic myth. Now, the book was going nowhere. The email, the rejection email, lay open on her laptop, a constant reminder of failure.

She busied herself with trivial tasks, anything to avoid confronting the truth. The apartment felt too small, the walls closing in. She avoided her writing desk, the blank page a symbol of her unfulfilled potential.

She cooked dinner, her movements slow, deliberate, as though she were operating underwater. The food tasted bland, unappealing. The silence at the table was heavy, filled with unspoken disappointment. The meal ended, but the problem hadn't gone away.