Gemotions

The bookstore, normally a sanctuary for Elias, now felt like a taunt. He walked past the gleaming display of published authors, each cover a glossy reminder of his own failure. He clenched his jaw, his hands forming fists in his pockets.

He bought a coffee, but the bitterness did nothing to cut through the acrid taste in his mouth. He found a table in a dark corner and tried to lose himself in a book, but the words blurred, their meaning lost.

He thought of the editor’s words, the polite platitudes disguising the undeniable truth. He was a nobody. His dreams were flimsy. He wanted to scream.