Gemotions

The flickering neon sign of the diner cast an unsteady glow over the counter. Michael, nursing a lukewarm coffee, stared at the email on his phone. The article was out. Not under his name. It was the crushing blow he’d been dreading.

The diner was nearly empty, but even the relative quiet felt loud in his ears. He'd scraped together every last ounce of energy, writing and rewriting, polishing every sentence. All for nothing.

He picked at his greasy food, the taste of it doing nothing to lift the leaden weight in his chest. He felt like his bones had become heavy, making even a slight movement feel like a mountain of effort. He could barely muster the strength to get up and leave.