Gemotions

The silence in the bookstore was deafening. Michael leaned against a bookshelf, his gaze fixed on the display of new releases. His hands felt numb, as though circulation had ceased. His dream publisher had said no. He felt a cold sweat prickling his forehead.

He imagined the rejection committee, snickering at his efforts. He’d invested so much, sacrificing time with his family, neglecting his health. And for what? He gripped the edge of a novel, the rough paper scraping against his skin.

He wanted to disappear, to melt into the shadows between the books. He felt a knot tighten in his gut.