Gemotions

The air in the restaurant felt thick, suffocating. David picked at his food, the once-appetizing meal now tasted bland and metallic. His date tried to engage him in conversation, but his replies were curt, monosyllabic.

He excused himself, claiming a headache. He walked outside, the cool night air providing a slight relief. He leaned against the brick wall of the building, closing his eyes. He had the letter in his pocket. He didn't want to think about it.

He thought of his dreams, his ambitions. The image of the publisher's words replayed in his head. He pulled the rejection letter out of his pocket and stared at it. He crumpled it slowly, then threw it in the trash.