Gemotions

The manuscript was crumpled in his hand. Peter felt a surge of nausea. He'd poured his heart and soul into this, only to see someone else's name at the top. The editor’s response was a simple, “We made an error.”

He found himself pacing his small apartment. His steps were erratic. His pulse quickened. The walls seemed to press in on him, the ceiling lowering with each circuit he took. The air tasted stale, and he felt a cold sweat prickling his skin.

He stopped abruptly, his chest aching. He felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. He sat down on the floor, and buried his face in his hands.