Gemotions

He slumped onto the park bench, the cold seeping through his jeans. The rejection, a crisp sheet of paper now crumpled in his fist, felt heavier than it should. The wind whipped at his face, carrying the scent of damp leaves and distant rain. His shoulders hunched, a posture of defeat. He watched a squirrel bury a nut, the small creature's frantic energy a stark contrast to his own sluggishness. His stomach gave a low rumble, the emptiness echoing the hollowness he felt inside.